Memories
by FangQueen13
Summary: PostShells. Buffy Summers has heard a rumor about a new hero in LA. However, her trip hardly seems like it's going to be the touching reunion she'd planned. It looks more like it's going to be a journey to Hell. BuffySpike. Summary inside.
1. The Phone Call

Disclaimer: On the off-chance that you've never seen BtVS or Angel and are under the misconception that this is all the progeny of my vibrant imagination, you're wrong. I don't own any of the characters (except a few supporting ones perhaps, like the cool mafia vampire) or a large amount of the setting, that all belongs to Joss. I do however possess an insanely obsessed mind, so read and enjoy. And I believe I mentioned this in the summary, but this IS A SPUFFY FIC, so if you're a B/A fan and would rather choke on a German doughnut than read about Spike and Buffy shagging (not that I'm giving you spoilers or anything), please feel free to do so. 

SET: Post-Shells. (Angel season 5. This used to be in the AtS category, but I thought since it's about Buffy and Spike it would be better to have it in a category where you could search for the two main characters. It helps to know the Angel characters, but if you're determined enough to get to the Spuffy goodness, you can manage even if you don't.)

General rating: M, for scenes of somewhat explicit sexual content, and for swearing.

Story summary (more detailed and less eloquent than the other one): Buffy hears that Spike is alive once more and in LA, so she hops on a plane to go see for herself. However, more or less as soon as she arrives she is attacked by a demon...and their scuffle is not without reprecussions for the Slayer. Buffy finds herself trapped in a hell-like prison constructed of her own guilt. Buffy regrets the way she's treated Spike over the years...with all of her soul, and all of her heart. If no one finds a way to rescue Buffy from her own mind, her guilt will consume her and she will be lost. But are her friends up to the challenge? Can "her champion" - the only one who can save her - bring himself to believe before it is too late?

* * *

**1: THE PHONE CALL**

* * *

_Buffy sat up sharply in bed, shocked and embarrassed. "DAWN! What are you – Does a locked door mean NOTHING to you!" Buffy tightened her hold on the sheet, which she had wrapped around her bare chest. The layout of the room was such that she could not see her sister directly, but did not miss a second of Dawn's amused expression in the large dressing table mirror. Buffy could see her own rosy cheeks, framed by her sweaty hair. How much had her sister seen...?_

_"You're such a freak. What were you doing anyway?" Dawn asked, perplexed._

_Buffy exchanged a confused look with Spike right beside her. Dawn was almost 18, how could she not understand..._

_Spike made a grunt of comprehension. "The mirror, luv," he whispered in Buffy's ear. Buffy looked again at the mirror, noticing that no one could be seen sitting beside her. She turned back to Spike, except he was gone._

_Buffy looked once more in the mirror, and watched her reflection say, "Yeah. He's not there."_

_Mirror-Buffy opened her hand while Buffy looked on, and procured an amulet, much like the one Angel had entrusted to her a few months before. "It's for a champion," Mirror-Buffy said, putting it around an invisible vampire neck. Buffy looked again at where Spike had been only moments before. "You'll find the amulet inside the Champion."_

Buffy awoke with a start. Her alarm clock kept beeping, but instead of turning it off she reached across the bed for Spike. She found no one. Leaving the alarm beeping its little alarm heart out, she tossed the covers off and made her way to the bathroom. Buffy sighed as she passed through the bathroom doorway, resigning herself to reality. "So it was just a dream after all," she said to herself. "Should've known."

* * *

"Let's talk business. Wesley, what have you guys figured out about that stone? You know, the one with the runes on it." Angel shuffled through the progress reports on his desk. Someone had organized them while he'd been sick, and the covers sported sparkly heart and unicorn stickers. 

Wesley's face combined a squint and a frown as he replied. "Well...Not much. It seems to be archaic, and demonic in origin, but appears to pre-date any written records. I –"

Angel seemed less patient that usual, and seemed preoccupied with a perturbing matter. "Wes? When you know something for sure, let me know. Especially if it explains what this has to do with the Prophecy."

Gunn spoke up. "Do we even know that it's got anything to do with the Shanshu business? Just because Ms. Blue Hair hinted at it doesn't mean it does."

Wesley stared fixedly out Angel's window. Illyria, Ms. Blue Hair, looked so much like Fred...Wesley couldn't help thinking of the demon as Fred. But he had to stop thinking it, because Illyria had murdered Fred and turned her beautiful body into a shell. It just was so difficult to think of Fred – Illyria – as a bad guy.

Gunn noticed Wesley's discomfort. The lawyer wanted to be comforting, but things were still a bit awkward after the skewering incident. "Uh, English?" Gunn ventured.

Wesley looked up, but did not say anything.

"We could go...get some lunch, or something. If you feel up to it."

Wesley smiled weakly. He was extremely relieved that Gunn seemed to have forgiven him. "I believe I'm up to it," he replied.

The two left the office, the door swinging behind them. Before it had stopped, Harmony entered.

"Morning, bossie!" she greeted, setting a "#1 Boss" mug on the desk in front of Angel. "I brought you your blood. Sorry," she said, scrunching her neck down and her shoulders up, while she smiled apologetically. "I couldn't help drinking a little. Hope you don't mind."

Angel stared at her as he raised the mug to his lips. "Harmony, I'm not taking any calls or having any visitors today. Have Wesley...No, have Gunn do all my client meetings. I'm taking the day off."

"Sure thing. Anything else?"

"No." Angel sighed as his secretary started to leave the room. "Oh, Harmony," he added. "Don't organize my paperwork again."

* * *

Spike watched apprehensively as the surgeon checked up on his recently-cut-off hands. Slayers were trouble, no doubt about it. Slayers...Buffy...Spike thought about what Andrew had said, thought about what Buffy would say if he phoned her in Rome. Would it be "Oh, Spike, I missed you so much!" or "You're beneath me"? 

"Well, no problems here. It all went fine."

Spike looked at the doctor. "You're sure these are mine?" Spike asked, looking his re-attached hands over. "Sew on the hands of a maniac, and you might get on my bad side."

The surgeon chuckled. "So you heard about Lindsey." He dropped his rubber gloves in the trash. "Don't worry, we don't like you enough for that."

Spike raised his hand and made an obscene two-fingered gesture at the doctor, who smiled, and began to leave the room.

Spike called out to him. "Hey! You know how to make a call to Rome?"

* * *

"How's Brazil?" Buffy asked. 

"Nice" Willow told her over the phone. "It's extremely warm, but it's –" Willow's description was interrupted by a squeak, which was followed by a reprimanding whisper: "Kennedy, wait 'til I'm – off the phone!"

Buffy smiled wryly. "So Kennedy's with you. You're lucky."

Willow was quiet. Buffy's tone was so...sad. "Buff, What's wrong?"

Buffy felt something in the pocket of her coat. She switched the phone to her other hand so she could reach it. "Oh, it's nothing. Andrew just brought back this Slayer, and she's completely off her rocker. She's a handful – Faith doesn't even know what to do with her."

"Wow," exclaimed Willow sympathetically. "That's really –"

Buffy's phone beeped. "Ooh, call waiting. Hang on, I'll just check who it is."

Buffy answered the new call. "Hello? This is –"

"Buffy," said the male voice on the phone. "It's Angel."

* * *

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	2. Visitor

Disclaimer: see chapter 1 

**

* * *

2: VISITOR**

* * *

"What is it?" Dawn asked her sister, who was packing things into her slaying bag. "Where are you going?" 

Buffy tossed several more stakes into her bag. "LA."

Dawn looked skeptical. "For slayage?"

"It's Angel. He wants me to fly all the way to LA so he can tell me he's not evil."

Dawn lifted a crossbow from the bag. "I guess it's really break up, then," she joked. "Potentially a dusty one?"

Buffy snatched it back and tossed it in the bag. "We broke up a _long_ time ago, Dawn." Dawn's sister was not in the mood for joking.

Dawn slipped her feet into a pair of her sister's shoes. "So you're gonna leave me here by myself?" She looked hopeful.

"Xander's coming to baby-sit you." Buffy stole her shoes back and put them on. She began quickly brushing her hair.

Dawn pouted. "I liked it better when Spike baby-sitted me, when you were dead."

There was a loud crash as Buffy dropped her hairbrush. She didn't say anything in response, only "Be good. I'll be back in three days." She left, and closed the door. Dawn shuffled to the stereo and turned it up loud.

Dawn sat on Buffy's bed, eating peanut buttered bread and reading Italian fashion magazines. The phone rang, and she set her plate on Buffy's pillow as she leaned over to pick up the receiver. "Buffy?...Hello, this is Dawn..." There was no sound for a few seconds, not even breathing. Then, click.

Dawn stared in confusion at the receiver. "They hung up," she said to herself.

* * *

Spike hung Harmony's phone back on the hook. 

Harmony looked pouty. "So what'd she say?" the vampire secretary asked.

Spike started walking away. "Wrong number."

"That's funny," Harmony said brightly. "Angel used that number this morning."

* * *

Andrew sighed in pointed annoyance. "No, you fool. You foolish...Fool. Not _all _Klingons are evil." 

The slayer-in-training rolled her brown eyes. "They're literary metaphors for vamps, what with the ugly faces and all –"

Andrew thought of his trip to LA, and remembered peroxide and leather. "Not all vam-PY-res are evil, young Slayer. You may have super-strength, but you have much yet to learn."

The door banged shut loudly. "GILES!"

Many Slayers rushed to the entryway. "Buffy!" they exclaimed excitedly.

Andrew studied the back of the cereal box. _He_ was aware of how bad at keeping secrets he was, and he didn't want to let Spike down.

Buffy walked into the kitchen, depositing her bags on the counter and jumping up to sit on it. "Hey Andrew. Giles here?"

Andrew tried to study the Cheerios importantly. "He's on an outing...A shopping outing. After LA, he's decided I'm responsible enough to baby-sit Slayers of the vam-PY-res."

Buffy's face lit up with the glow of something suddenly remembered. "Oh, that's right. So how was your trip? Anything interesting I should know?"

Andrew studied harder. "Um, no...I didn't meet anyone...Anyone I didn't plan on meeting...And there isn't anything I can't tell you at all!" He laughed uneasily as he felt himself slipping out of the zone of credibility.

Buffy shot him a skeptical look, and then grinned, trying not to laugh. "Spill it, Andrew."

"I promised I – spill what? Nothing's spilling here...At least not in Mr. Giles's kitchen!"

Buffy hopped off the counter. "_WHAT. HAPPENED._"

Andrew thought again of Spike, and how the vampire hadn't wanted the news of his resurrection to reach Buffy via Andrew. "It's just..." he grasped for ideas. As he was doing so, he saw a penny and popped it in his mouth. Seconds later he spat it out. "Eeew. Yuck."

One corner of Buffy's mouth curved into an amused smile. "Did you just eat a penny?"

"Do they really taste like blood?" the watcher-in-training inquired.

"How would I..." Buffy began. But she remembered, years ago, when she asked a blonde vampire what blood tasted like.

"Metallic...like a penny. Doubt it would agree with you, luv," Spike had said.

"So whom did you meet?" she pressed, dreading his answer for fear that she was wrong.

"No one!" Andrew choked, a tangled mess of nerves. "_Boy_ is Spike gonna kill me when he hears how close I came to..." he looked sheepishly at Buffy. "Oops."

Buffy had grabbed her bag and bolted out of the room in only a few short seconds, a decisive look on her face. At the thresh-hold she paused. "How long has he been back?"

"I dunno, a few months?"

"Interesting. Did he happen to mention to you how _hard_ I'm gonna kill him!" Buffy shouted as she left the house.

"Well, Spike, old friend. Now I see why you didn't want to tell her." Andrew said to the Cheerio box.

* * *

Xander knocked on the door to the Summerses' Italian apartment. "Dawn?" He heard music inside, and a few crashes, and finally the door opened. 

"Hey Xander," Dawn greeted.

Xander looked around the front room. "You gotta hand it to she who is the Slayer. Hiring Spartans to do her interior decorating...now that is the way to go. Cheap _and_ aesthetically bare."

"Welcome to Planet Buffy," replied Dawn with a groan.

Xander procured a box. "I brought you a present," he added.

Dawn was intrigued. "Is it another wooden talking head?"

"Of course not," Xander said scornfully. "It's a clay sculpture. Of a foot. They sell them in the airport giftshops in Africa."

* * *

The door to Angel's office was opened roughly, and Spike walked in. 

Angel stared at him. "I _thought_ I said 'no visitors'. Where wasn't I clear enough?"

Spike began searching on Angel's desk for something. "No worry, mate. Just searching for that prophecy of yours. Want to see if it says anything about the Champion losing a crucial body part." Spike stuffed a small piece of folded address book paper in a pocket of his duster.

Angel snatched his papers back from Spike. "Get out of my office."

The door opened again, and Lorne's green head peeked through. "So sorry to interrupt. There's a lady waiting in the lobby, and she wants to see Angel."

Angel studied his fingernails. "Tell her she'll have to come back another day."

Lorne frowned. "You're really looking to raise your guard mortality rate," he commented. "This chica is _strong_. She knocked a guard out cold when he told her he wanted identification."

Spike vaulted over Angel's desk. "What did she look like?" he asked, clearly interested.

Lorne looked at Spike, then at Angel, and then back at Spike. "Not a happy bunch of grapes, are we?" he noticed the two vampires staring at him, waiting. He sighed. "Cute. Short. Blonde."

Angel quickly stood up. "I'll be right down," he said. Spike, who had been on his way out the door, watched Angel leave, feigning indifference. Angel, somehow, always managed to make him feel like he was a fledgling again.

* * *

"I _told _you, he said '_no visitors_'." 

Buffy kicked the desk, making a toe-sized hole in the wood. "So, Wolfram and Hart doesn't mind employing evil vampires, I take it."

Harmony shook her head. "We have a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy," she explained knowledgeably.

"Buffy!"

Blonde hair swished around. "Angel," she said cooly. Silence.

Buffy broke it. "Nice guards. _Very_ effective," she told him, gesturing at the unconscious men on the ground.

Angel glanced around the lobby, worried. "We can talk in my office."

Buffy allowed Angel to lead her to his office, but did not allow him to do so physically, shaking off his arm when he tried. Inside the office, Angel fell back in his chair, and Buffy sat on his desk.

"Buffy, I –"

She interrupted. "Let me guess. You're not evil, you're only using Evil Incorporated to do your helping of the helpless in _style_?" Her emotionless voice was almost cold enough to turn Angel into a vampire icicle.

"Buffy, Wolfram and Hart has been great for Angel Investigations." Buffy picked up a pencil and played with it in her fingers, accidentally breaking it in half in the process. "With our new resources, we can do so much more to help, and we've acquired new business associates, several of whom are _not_ evil..."

"I guess Knox wasn't one of those." Buffy put the two halves of pencil back in the pencil jar.

Angel looked at his fingernails. "So you heard about Fred."

Buffy was far from finished. "And while we're on the subject, have any of the 'new business associates' been...say, _old rivals?_ Perhaps any mutual acquaintances of ours who have recently _gone up in pillars of flames!_" 

Angel started to deny it, but froze upon seeing Buffy's look of disgust.

"Just _when_, exactly, were you planning on telling me, Angel!" she demanded, and Angel noted that her voice had become far from emotionless - she even sounded hurt. "I could maybe have believed that your running this business has a touch of good in it. Maybe you really _are _helping people. But don't try telling me you're still a soldier of good. You want evil, try..._Lying_ to me? How could you keep it from me, Angel!"

The vampire was on the verge of formulating a response when something large and bluish in color shattered his window.

* * *

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	3. Orpheus

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

* * *

**3: ORPHEUS**

* * *

An ugly bluish demon had just landed in front of Angel's antique weapon collection after flying through his window. Buffy looked at Angel. "Is this one of your clients?" she asked sarcastically. 

"No," Angel replied.

"Can I kill him?" Buffy asked.

Angel looked sadly at the shattered glass. "He broke my window!"

Buffy pulled a sword out of her bag, and chased the demon into the lobby. Angel winced as he followed. "You have no idea how much that thing's gonna cost to fix..."

The Slayer and the demon circled each other, and Buffy swung the sword a few times, only to have her opponent dodge it.

"Couldn't you have broken something else? The door, maybe? It's an ugly door anyway..."

Buffy feigned a fall, rolled, and jumped off to slice off one of the demon's arms. She swung around, burying the sword deep into the abdomen of the demon...As its remaining hand grasped at her neck.

The Slayer gasped when one of the demon's claws sank into her jugular vein. Fiercely tearing the arm away from her, Buffy kicked the arm's owner into Angel's desk, where it received a brutal neck-snapping. She panted, satisfied, but breath sounded a bit breathy and pained. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

Lorne, who had been hiding behind Harmony's desk (as had Harmony), began applauding the Slayer.

Buffy's grinning lasted for a few seconds before she collapsed backwards and hit the floor.

* * *

Spike had become bored with kicking the door to the bathroom stall, and he'd sprained his toe doing just that, and a new pass-time was definitely in line. "Bloody hell," he told no one in particular. "Might as well just barge in on the bastard and his little Miss Italy. Nothing's stopping me." Spike sauntered out of the men's room, feeling a lot less confident than he looked. On his way to Angel's office, he ran into the #1 Boss himself, hurrying in the opposite direction. 

"Little Goldilocks too much for you?" he asked bitterly.

Angel seemed too preoccupied for banter. "Spike...You'd better come with me."

Spike looked at the Slayer's blonde hair, splayed across the hospital bed pillow. Buffy. Stiller than death.

Angel and Lorne were talking seriously. "Wesley thinks it's an Arvak demon," said Angel.

Lorne frowned. "Sure?"

"He's sure, Lorne."

Lorne looked at Buffy sadly, lamenting the lost cause. "What a pity. It's really too bad."

Both Angel and Spike stared at Lorne, waiting for more.

"The venom of an Arvak is used in the mystical drug Morpheus. You remember that, Angelcakes. It drags you to Hell..." he looked over at the comatose Slayer, "And leaves you there."

Spike pushed Lorne's shoulders, shoving him into the wall. "Hell? Buffy's in _HELL!_?"

"Easy, Orpheus." Lorne sighed as Spike reluctantly let him go. "The Slayer's in her own _personal _Hell. Her worst nightmares, her worst memories...She's trapped inside her own mind."

Angel paced. "But she'll come back. Faith came back."

Lorne replied apologetically. "Faith only came back with your help, Angelcakes."

"Help?" Spike snapped up the idea. "She could make it out with help?" His mind was whirring. "Last time Buffy got stuck in her head, Red got her out of it." Spike fumbled in his duster for the cell phone he'd claimed as his. "We call her, she flies over on one of your high-speed jets, she brings Buffy back."

Angel would have loved to reject any plan developed by Spike, but the situation was too dire. "You know..." he said with the grimace of reluctance as he grabbed Spike's phone, "That might just work."

* * *

"Sorry, but she's...You know, projecting again? Astral projection? She can call you back..." 

"It's alright," Angel's voice assured a worried Kennedy. "Just have her do that."

"It's _ALRIGHT_?" Kennedy heard Spike shout furiously. "Are you an absolute _NUMBSKULL!_ It's not bloody_ alright!_"

Kennedy winced. She could nearly see the blonde vampire screaming into Angel's ear. Even though she'd never actually _met_ Angel, she imagined him rather like a less punk Spike. "I'll...Try to get her back as soon as possible. Send your jet, or whatever, and Willow will be on it." Angel thanked her and hung up.

Kennedy walked quietly to where Willow's body was sitting. "Will," she whispered in her girlfriend's ear. "Will, your friends need you. Buffy's in trouble." The Slayer gently kissed Willow's forehead.

Willow felt herself falling backwards, the world slipping away from her as physical reality rushed up to meet her. "Kennedy?" she murmured.

The Slayer smiled. "I'm here, Will."

Willow blinked and looked at Kennedy. "So what is it?"

Kennedy swallowed. "It's Buffy. She's in a coma...And Angel thinks she won't come out without you taking a brain tour or something."

Willow's face showed worry. "Well, at least it's something I'm good at," she attempted to say brightly. "I'm supposed to go to Rome?"

"LA," corrected Kennedy. "She's with Angel in LA. Wolfram and Hart is sending a private jet."

"Oh. I thought she was mad at him," Willow muttered. "I'll probably be gone for a few days, and Saturday's obviously off. Is that okay with you?" Willow tucked a piece of Kennedy's hair behind her ear.

Kennedy laughed. "I'm coming with you. You think I could sit still while a fellow Slayer is in trouble?" Willow smiled thankfully at Kennedy; the witch didn't really want to brave Evil, Inc. by herself. "Besides, God knows how many sexy women you might meet in a city like that?"

* * *

Spike fell backwards into the chair beside Buffy's hospital bed. Helooked at her troubled face, knowing she was trapped in a personalized Buffy hell. He hadn't left her side since he'd arrived, and he'd spent 9 hours wiping sweat and tears from her face. He'd held her hand when Angel hadn't been. 

"Will you _stop _that bloody pacing?" Spike irritably demanded of Angel.

Angel shouted back at Spike, just as irritably. "I'm trying to think, Spike. I want to be doing something useful!"

Spike's face instantly closed off. "Might want to pick another pass-time then, mate," he commented insolently. "Pacing's hardly..." But he knew Angel was right – Buffy neither knew nor cared how much devotion Spike was showing her, he was positive of that. Holding her hand won't bloody save her life, he thought.

Spike suddenly stood up. He picked Buffy's jacked up off the bedside table and started for the door.

"Where are you going?" Angel asked scornfully. "And with her jacket?"

"I'm going to do something useful," Spike replied, and closed the door behind him.

* * *

"Heh, heh, heh," laughed the vampire over his pint of platelets. Spike looked at the rings on his informant's fingers, which were the sort that made it likely that this particular monster was in the vampire mafia. "You won't be getting that information until I see a little payment." 

A frustrated Spike slammed a wooden stake on the bar table between them. "Can't see how a fellow would need payment if he belongs in an ashtray," growled a vamped-out Spike. "Now talk."

Reluctantly, the smirking vampire release his information. "There is but one antidote to the Arvak demon's venom." He then looked at Spike, displaying impertinent curiosity. "How much are you prepared to do for this girl?"

Spike replied without needing to think. "Anything."

The corner of the informant's mouth curled into a smile. "The only cure...Is to rid the victim's system of the poisoned blood."

The blonde scoffed. "That's it? The medical staff can transfer blood in a –"

Don Vampione's evil laugh was slightly unnerving, but Spike didn't have time to be suspicious. He left the table and headed for the door.

"Wait, Hero-boy."

Spike turned impatiently, his duster swishing around

"Now how did this girl of yours get poisoned by an Arvak in the first place?"

Spike wondered how the answer would be of such importance. "She...killed it," he replied dubiously.

"Slayer?" the other vampire asked, smiling.

"Yeah," the blonde replied wistfully.

The informant chuckled. "Then no measly medical staff can cure her." It took all of Spike's mental discipline to refrain from dusting the vamp right there. But the other demon continued: "Magic runs through her veins. Magical blood must replace the poison."

There was a silence as Spike pointedly directed a what-the-bloody-hell stare at the informant, who eventually decided to elaborate. "You drain her, you fill her back up."

Spike was appalled. "_I'M NOT TURNING BUFFY!_" he announced loudly and angrily.

"You won't turn her. The poison will negate it." He smiled greasily. "Just treat yourself to Slayer's blood."

Spike made a disgusted face, but what really appalled him was how much he _wasn't_ disgusted by the concept. Without a word, he left the bar. It was clear what needed to be done, and he'd do it. The only thing that made him uncomfortable was the informant's sly smirk as Spike had left the room.

* * *

BTW, thanks to all of you guys who have reviewed. I got some great reviews (nice and happy and good for the soul) and some really helpful ones. For those of you who are wondering when this thing gets M, I'm pretty sure it's gonna be in the next chapter. 


	4. Thanks For Saying It

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

* * *

**4: THANKS FOR SAYING IT**

* * *

As Spike approached the medical ward, he overheard an angry Angel talking on the phone. 

"What do you mean _delay?_ Why would there be a delay? Our jets don't have delays...Well I don't care if there _is_ a storm, can't you fly around it?"

Spike inhaled unnecessarily, gathering the sufficient courage. He had to move quickly and never once hesitate; he couldn't afford to be stopped by Angel._ And the wanker will certainly try,_ he prepared himself. _I'll just try not to think about..._ his thoughts stopped abruptly. He couldn't do this to Buffy.

But could he just let her die? Spike remembered the last time he'd failed to save the Slayer. _I saved you..._ he'd said, _Not when it counted, of course, but every night after that..._ This time, "not when it counted" wouldn't be good enough. He couldn't fail her again.

With new resolve, Spike burst through the door and walked quickly over to Buffy's hospital bed. He sat down beside her, and looked at her tortured face. She looked resigned to her horrible fate, and tears silently pooled in her eyes and made her mascara run. Spike ran his thumb across her wet cheek, and then bent forward.

"Spike, just what do you think you're -" Angel spat argumentatively, but his question was answered before he was done asking it. The blonde vampire's face changed a brief second before he sank his fangs into Buffy's neck.

Angel rushed over to the bed, game face on, and dealt Spike a vicious kick in his ribs. Spike shuddered under blow, but did not release his dental hold on the Slayer. Angel grabbed Spike by the waist, trying to pull him off, and Spike could feel flesh tearing beneath his teeth. He continued drinking.

He was saving Buffy.

The wonderful sensation of Slayer's blood running down his throat was one he hadn't felt in a long time. He found himself enjoying every second of drinking, revelled in the sensation of holding Buffy's life between his teeth, but part of him worried that he wouldn't be able to stop. What if he drained Buffy completely, and killed her instead of saving her life?

On the other side of the room, Angel was gearing up for another attack as the door opened.

"Angel?" Harmony's singsong voice asked.

He turned towards his secretary. "Not right _now_, Harmony! I'm a little busy." 

"But Angel," she persisted, "It's really important. The Korikan Consul is on the phone, and he's growling - that can't be a good thing - and he really wants to talk to you!"

Angel also growled at Harmony, waving his hands around like a particularly frustrated madman. "Just tell him to wait a few minutes, or _something!_ I'm in the middle of something..."

Spike waited to feel the heart below him slow its beating. The noise around him seemed like a muddle of background noise, and the only thing he could feel like it was the only thing in the world was his living, breathing, pumping, beating connection to the Slayer, as what she was poured into him and filled him with warmth in a way that only human blood - only Slayer blood - could do...

As her heartbeat grow slower, he felt her stir underneath him, and immediately he released his bite and put his human face back on. "Buffy?" he asked softly as he licked her blood from his lips.

"Spike," she rasped. "I feel...dizzy..." She frowned, trying to comprehend the reason behind the feeling, but Spike cupped his hand along the side of her face.

"Shh..."

He fished a pocketknife out of his duster and used it to slit his wrist. "Just drink," he told her.

Buffy weakly closed her lips around the cut on Spike's wrist as Angel continued to argue with Harmony.

Spike hadn't felt someone drink from him since Drusilla had turned him, and he'd forgotten how good it felt to be needed in such a simple, instinctual way. But Buffy looked fatigued, and she was barely managing to swallow the blood. _She's dying!_ Spike feared, and he hurriedly checked her pulse. The vampire was relieved to find it growing more steady by the second. Soon he could feel the suction from her mouth and the fleeting flicks of her tongue against the soft skin of his wrist. For a moment he delighted in the intimacy of sharing blood with Buffy, the ghosts of hints of passion awakened by the sensual act. Suddenly feeling like he was exploiting Buffy in her illness, Spike gently extricated his wrist from her grasp.

Angel was shouting at Harmony. "NOT _NOW!_ I'M BUSY!"

Buffy briefly opened her eyes to look into Spike's clear blue ones before closing them again.

"Buffy..." he whispered. Had he saved her?

She weakly whispered back, eyes closed peacefully. "Take me home with you."

* * *

Buffy woke up in a rather uncomfortable bed, which was hard and narrow and feeble enough to be more accurately termed a cot. At first she wasn't exactly sure where she was, but then she saw a black duster draped across the arm of a decrepit cozy-chair. A small smile curled one corner of her mouth. 

She sat up, causing the "bed" to creak. From another room, a familiar voice called to her. "Buffy? Are you awake, luv?"

"Yeah." Buffy rolled off the bed and stood up, only to find herself in the hospital gown. "Um, just a minute." She began searching for clothes, before she remembered that they would still be at Wolfram and Hart.

"Did you find your things?" Spike asked from the other room. "I got them from Angel. I figured you'd be wanting to change your clothes, as it's you and all." He spoke like he had a smile on his lips. Buffy looked around the room, and sure enough, she spied her duffel bag against the wall.

"Don't come in," she warned, aware of how ridiculous it was to be modest after the things they'd done but unable to fight a sudden bout of sixteen-year-old shyness.

She had brought lots of Italian outfits, and she selected a deep red blouse that draped down below her hips and which she considered one of her most flattering garments.

Buffy looked around for a mirror, even though she didn't expect to find one. To her surprise, there was a small hand mirror on the bedside table. She brushed her blonde hair into a ponytail, but then suddenly pulled the rubber band out and shook her hair loose. She shook her head a few more times, watching the hair. _The way it bounces_... She brushed a bit of it behind her ear and tossed the brush in her bag.

Buffy tiptoed into the other room. She wanted to surprise him.

Still, the vampire ears heard her enter. "Morning, pet," he said from across the small kitchenette. "Er - do you like pancakes?"

Buffy sat at the two-person table, grinning in amusement. "Sure. Why?" She could smell the answer.

Spike didn't meet her gaze. "Well I, er - I made you some," he told her tentatively.

"Thanks," the Slayer laughed, finding it all extremely cute. "You don't even eat them yourself, do you?"

The vampire replied, "Not usually," as he set two plates and a platter of pancakes on the table.

Buffy noticed the deformities of the breakfast: one pancake was folded in half, and all were horribly misshapen. Her smile widened but she didn't say anything. Spike opened the refrigerator and took out a jar of blood. He then turned to Buffy. "Is it alright if I -"

Buffy, whose mouth was full of pancake, stared at him blankly. As soon as she understood, she swallowed and launched into a rushed and excessive explanation. "Sure! I mean, of course! If I can eat, why can't you? Anyway, it's not like I've never seen a vampire drink blood before...So...yeah, go ahead."

Spike looked at her face, trying to read it. "I...just thought you might have seen one do it too recently."

Buffy put her fingers to the bite on her neck, which someone had bandaged carefully. She'd almost forgotten about the whole affair; she only remembered Spike leaning over her, mouth on her neck, and the feeling of cuddling into him, as if the two of them were melting into one. Turning back to Spike, she shook her head. "Nah."

Spike poured the red liquid into a mug and put it in the beat-up microwave, and then joined Buffy at the table. Pulling an awkwardly-shaped pancake onto his plate, he asked, "Do they...Are they anything like normal pancakes? All I had to go on was that bloody Moosewood..."

"They're fine," an amused Buffy assured him. The idea Spike cooking at all was almost grounds for a reality check, and Moosewood? Reality had lost all coherence. Buffy continued: "Far better than the ones Dawn makes. I mean, pineapples? Yuck." She smiled at Spike.

Spike followed her lead and smiled back.

* * *

Angel was not in the best of moods. In fact, he was in a worse mood than usual. Unlike his co-workers, he didn't find the way in which Buffy was cured to be particularly amusing. He was even less amused by her choice to go home with Spike. Gunn even went so far as to describe Angel's feeling as blatant anger. 

"I don't think I've _ever_ seen Angel this mad," he said to Harmony, who was painting her nails at her desk. "Even at Spike."

Harmony was in a bad mood herself. "Everyone's mad at Blondie Bear," she commented. "I mean, who gave him permission to run off with" she put on a prissy voice, "the Vampire Slayer?"

Gunn shrugged noncommittally. Just then, the door opened, admitting a Wolfram and Hart employee and two young women. "Willow!" Gunn heard from behind, as Wesley arrived to greet the arrivals.

"Hey." Willow looked around for Angel, and was obviously a bit overwhelmed by the corporate surroundings. "Um, what exactly is wrong with Buffy?" she inquired.

"Nothing." Gunn seemed almost surprised by his own answer, as if his brain had not fully assimilated the new installments in with accepted truth.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," interjected Captain Forehead. "A short little fairy _flew_ down and gave her the hickey of her life," he muttered bitterly.

"A fairy visited Buffy? Angel, can you make sense for just once in your life?"

Thinking Angel's answer was perhaps no, Wesley explained instead. "Spike...Seems to have discovered how to cure her and proceeded to do so...And now Buffy is with him, in his...apartment." Willow knew Giles would be cleaning his glasses if he were in Wesley's position.

"And the hickey?"

Wesley grimaced. "The method of healing involved...biting. And drinking."

"Oh my god," gasped Kennedy.

Willow punctuated the following silence with a question. "Well...Can we stay here anyway?"

* * *

Shreds of deteriorating sponge washed down the drain. Buffy's attention was entirely focused on watching Spike drink his microwaved blood, and not even remotely turned towards the dishes she was washing. She scrubbed vigorously, not noticing the damage being done to the sponge. Spike had said she didn't have to wash dishes in his house - she was a guest, after all - but she'd insisted. Sometimes he was _too _generous. Too selfless.

As soon had he'd finished, she quickly switched her gaze back to the shreds of sponge she was holding. Both of them could feel the awkwardness mounting to nearly unsurmountable levels.

With her back turned to him, Spike noticed her hair. "Buffy, your hair -"

Her appearance at possible risk, Buffy turned her head sharply, causing her hair to flip around and bounce. "What?" she asked fearfully, running her fingers over her hair.

Spike smiled at her reaction. "It's long again," he said, moving up close behind her.

"Oh." Buffy was nervous; his nearness threatened made her afraid, but at the same time it was captivating and exciting. "It...grew. It tends to...do that."

Spike ran his fingers through her hair, all the while watching her face for a signal warning him to stop. "It's beautiful," he whispered centimeters from her ear.

The air near her ear tickled her, and she giggled. _I feel like I'm in high school again, _she thought. Buffy was then seized by impulse, and she pulled his face towards hers and pressed a hard kiss into his lips. The tension seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Spike was caught by surprise, but he quickly adapted to the situation, digging his fingers into the hair at the base of her scalp. Buffy moved her hands, using one to pull his head closer to hers, and wrapping the other arm around his neck.

Spike snaked one hand down the Slayer's back, and then curved it around her butt. Suddenly, he lifted her and set her down on the countertop, a bit roughly. Buffy exhaled sharply, far from hurt, and pulled his head closer to her. She forced her tongue into his mouth, where his greeted it, and the two tongues began a vicious push-and-shove battle.

"So, you missed me, Slayer?" Spike eventually managed.

Buffy pulled on his bottom lip with her teeth. "Obviously."

"You don't have some -" he felt a fiery surge of pleasure when he felt her fingers fumbling with his belt buckle, "Italian boyfriend to - keep you company?"

She stuck out her tongue at him, and he sucked on it. She responded once she'd regained tongue control. "Nope." She pulled his belt out through the loops. "Just me and Dawn...Okay, let's forget how wrong that sounded."

Spike smirked. "Time to get you to bed," he told her.

She whined, using a full-strength pouty face. "But I'm not tired yet," she whined.

"All the better to shag you with, pet," was the reply.

* * *

"There. Sqmush. I win!" 

"Sqmush isn't a word," Dawn protested. "It's a sound. It's not even really a normal sound," she added after thinking a bit. "But I don't think 'scrabble' is really a word either...Fine." She started laughing.

Xander selected a few more lettered wooden blocks and set them in front of him. He wondered if proper names were allowed, and noticed that three of the letters were well on their way to spelling a name. A-N-Y - No. Thinking about that name didn't lead to good emotional places. And he needed to be in good emotional places, for Dawn and Buffy. Dawn was teenaged and angsty, and Buffy was a young single woman and also angsty. She had never really gotten over the destruction of Sunnydale.

Xander put the wood blocks back in the pile. "How about doing something else, Dawnie?" he proposed. Buffy hadn't said much about what had happened down there. She'd told them who had saved them, but they'd already known when he hadn't come out of the mess.

"So Dawn, would you...like to talk? About something? Anything?"

Dawn smiled knowingly, amusedly. God, she was acting more like her sister every day. She was even starting to _smile_ like Buffy. "Xander? I kinda get the feeling that _you_ wanna talk about something. What is it?"

Xander stalled, scratching his head. It really wasn't one of his favorite conversation topics, but he had to know. He had to know the things Buffy would never tell him because of things he'd said before. "Spike. I want to talk about Spike. What he did, that we didn't hear about. Why he did what he did, why he changed." Xander sighed. He was asking for a lot from the Slayer's sister. "I want to know what she felt...As much as you know. What Buffy felt for Spike."

* * *

Spike threw Buffy down on the "bed," but her legs were wrapped so tightly around his waist that he came down with her. "I can't believe it took me long to get you to bed," she whispered playfully. "Do vampires get less horny with age?" 

Spike smirked back at her and set to work on removing her shirt and bra, working quickly with nimble fingers that had plenty of practice. "Doubt it, pet."

Buffy had managed to de-belt and un-zip Spike's black jeans, but was not as successful with pulling them off using only her feet. "Spike," she complained, "you have to help me here, you know." He kicked them down, tangling them in the sheets.

Spike cupped his hands around her breasts, his mouth placing kisses down her throat. The kisses continued to move downwards, his tongue as well as his lips occasionally pressing against her tender skin. By the time he'd reached her navel, she'd managed to remove all his clothes, as well as wriggle out of her underwear. She shivered with anticipation, feeling an almost over-powering desire for something she hadn't had for over a year.

It suddenly struck her as extremely silly: why hadn't they had sex even once since he'd returned with his soul, when they both wanted each so badly? She knew she'd wanted to teach him a lesson, to make him think that he needed to win her back, when in fact she was waiting for him, already won.

She moaned as Spike made full use of his thumbs and tongue. As he came back up to kiss her some more, he asked, "Was it ever like this, with Angel?"

Buffy thought about what Spike meant, and thought about her answer to his question. Did he mean, was Angel this good? Or, had she felt the same way? She thought it bizarre that he was bringing it up at that moment, and wondered how he could bear hearing the answer. "I thought you didn't want to talk about him while we're making love," she said.

"I don't," he replied.

Buffy kissed him reassuringly. She couldn't follow his train of thought, but she could tell he was hurting. He was always hurting, because of her. "No."

Spike looked at her with a trace of fear and surprise, as if he'd forgotten what question she was answering.

"It wasn't like this. It was different." She'd been different.

Spike nodded. She'd loved Angel; of course it had been different. He felt everything inside him clench. An ice-cold hand reached up through his chest, trying to pull him in through his stomach and down into nothing. But he kept his face expressionless. She'd come to him for something, and he was going to give it to her.

Spike pushed Buffy roughly into the bed. As his body entered hers, his heart sped off in the opposite direction.

* * *

The Slayer snuggled into Spike's bare chest while watching Passions for the first time. The vampire had adjusted to her body temperature, so feeling him felt like feeling more of herself. 

Spike trailed his fingers up her bare leg. She was wearing nothing but her underwear and his shirt. She enjoyed being surrounded by his arms and his smell. She wanted him to have all of her - her mind, her body, her heart, her soul. She knew he'd take care of her. He loved her so much. She adored how much he cared for her. It was beyond adorable.

Buffy thought about the night before, when he'd saved her from a nightmare worse than any possible description. She could hardly believe he'd had the courage to bite her, when for years he'd tried his best to avoid anything there was a chance she wouldn't like.

She gently fitted her teeth around his shoulder; he turned to look at her quizzically. "Bite me," she told him.

"No." He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, almost too gently to be felt. "I'm not doing anything that could hurt you."

"C'mon, please," she urged, tilting her head to the side and moving her hair out of the way. "I trust you."

He guided her head back upright, declining the offer.

Buffy figured he needed to be reminded. She turned his face towards hers, fingers on his jaw. "I love you."

Spikes eyes betrayed him, displaying the clenching sadness in his stomach. How could she look him in the eyes and lie to him?

The 8 words she'd tried to forget since Sunnydale's collapse came rushing up to drown her. She bit her lip, clamping her jaw tight to keep it from quivering.

_No, you don't. But thanks for saying it. _

Spike felt the Slayer go limp in his arms, her head loosely hanging back on her neck.

"Buffy?"

Suddenly the Slayer's body went tense, straining against nothing. She wheezed air in, and moaned while her limbs flailed frantically. Buffy's eyeballs rolled back in her head, trying to escape some haunting sight. Her mind was being sucked into its Hell once again, and she could not fight the world of terror closing in on her.

"_BUFFY!_" Spike screamed, bending over her and violently shaking her shoulders.

Her mind tumbled backwards into nowhere, forcing her to repeat the same scene endlessly.

_I love you._

_No, you don't. But thanks for saying it. _

* * *

Review...


	5. Bring Her Back

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

* * *

**5: BRING HER BACK****

* * *

**"_BUFFY!_" Spike screamed, bending over her and violently shaking her shoulders He scooped her up, cradling her in his arms, sobbing over her. He hadn't cried so hard since she'd jumped off of Glory's tower. He remembered how he'd failed to save her. 

But this time it was different. He'd do something, anything, before it was too late.

Spike stuffed his feet into his shoes, grabbed his keys, duster, and spare shirt, and rushed the flailing Slayer out the door.

Spike was in a hurry, but nevertheless he gently laid Buffy on the seat beside him, using his duster to support her head. He turned the keys in the ignition, and drove off, wishing he'd had the forethought to bring a pair of pants for Buffy.

"Why isn't she dressed?" Angel demanded. His gang remained mum, each member secretly praying that they wouldn't have to be the one to explain. "He drives her here, and rushes her inside, _screaming_, telling us that she's dying. And all she has on is a shirt!"

"And a pretty pair of panties," Gunn added, not altogether helping.

Wesley stood a ways off, next to a woman who greatly resembled Fred. The blue-haired Illyria was wearing Fred's face, but she did not possess Fred's grasp of human customs. "Is this normal for your kind? You told me clothes are always worn except when performing mating rituals." Illyria ran her fingers through the hair in her face, brushing it back. Wesley could nothelp but notice the mannerism borrowed from Fred.

His body stood close to Fred's, but his mind was light-years away from Illyria. He did not want to know her, or to see her...And yet he needed to. Because Illyria was the last that remained of Fred. "I...believe that's...exactly what they were doing," he informed the Old One.

"Of course," exclaimed Illyria, smacking the butt of her palm against her forehead. Another Fred thing. Wesley knew he had not taught her Fred's body language, and some distant part of him wondered what her innate knowledge of it meant. Could some part of Fred have remained with Illyria, apart from her body? Wesley didn't explore the question; he was mourning. He didn't have time to ponder things.

Spike burst into the room. "Red says she's gone," he shot at Angel. "All holed up inside that pretty little head of hers." After a few moments of tension, he sighed. Angel was really the vampire to be dealing with the situation.

"Well? Is she working the case?" Angel wanted to know. "Is she trying to bring Buffy back?"

"Did we fly Red and her honey all the way here to do something else?" Spike reminded the CEO, even thought the reminder sounded more like angry shouting.

"No, but – Spike." Angel tried to calm himself, wondering if that counted as "perfecting his block of wood mystique." He then went on: "We don't even know why she's gone again, do we?"

Spike thought about that. No, they didn't know, although he suspected that he was at least partially responsible. Responsible for Buffy being gone. Then he thought of Dawn, back in Italy, having no idea what happened. And of Giles, who probably didn't even know Buffy was in America, based on Buffy's past demonstrations of her Watcher-consultation skills. They deserved to know what had happened...but he wouldn't tell them until he'd gotten all the answers.

Spike suddenly started walking in the direction of the door. Angel glared at the peroxided vampire vindictively. "I'm not walking out on her, if that's what you're thinking," Spike informed him. "There's a particular demon I've got a few words to say to."

* * *

"Now we come to that last one. It's the simplest question, but it has a really complicated answer." Dawn spooned ice cream out of the cardboard container. "I guess it all has to do with how much he loved her. 

"It goes back almost to the beginning. Okay, so saying 'love' might be stretching it a bit for the first year or so, but it was starting. Spike planned to kill another Slayer. He planned to be Buffy's biggest, baddest enemy. He studied her, learned every single secret about her. He understood how she made her plans and knew when she was impulsive. He was totally obsessed. In his hatred, Spike knew Buffy better than Angel ever did."

Xander was playing the part of an amazing audience. The things Dawn told him where shocking and hard to swallow, but he needed to keep listening. He knew it was silly, but he felt like he owed it to Spike. It seemed he should get to know the guy who'd saved them all, even if it had to be a posthumous relationship. He'd come to respect Spike just enough for that.

"Spike understood Buffy. When he was evil, it got him nowhere. They hated each other. It was completely mutual. But with the chip, he started hanging around the Scoobies, and getting to know all of us better. Especially Buffy. Seeing so much of her only nourished his obsession, and seeing how she treated her friends changed the way he felt. The Slayer wasn't his enemy anymore, and he didn't hate her. She was almost like his...ally, or his associate. And he loved her. He knew her, he understood her, and he loved her.

"Buffy eventually learned that the harmless vampire would do anything for her, for no prize. Just – for her. And I think she started to trust that. When Glory was looking for me, Buffy sent Mom and me over to Spike's crypt, so he could protect us. And she told me that the night before she died, when she and Spike were at the house, she made him promise to protect me. If anything went wrong. It did, and he did, with all the babysitting and helping you guys patrol and everything. He proved that she could trust him, even if he was a vampire without a soul."

"But wait," Xander interjected. It didn't sound right, it didn't sound like the Buffster he remembered. "I thought she DIDN'T trust Spike. Wasn't he always yelling at her about that?" Xander's memories did not include Buffy who was particularly pleased by Spike.

"Well," Dawn thought. She wasn't reciting anymore, she was analyzing the past herself. "Buffy thought it was wrong to trust someone like Spike, just like she thought it was wrong to love him. Sometimes I wondered if she did love him, but was just too screwed up to want to realize it. You know, she was so protective and everything. I didn't know what they were doing those nights when she didn't come home until I was eating breakfast. I just knew that she trusted him more than she trusted us, and way more than she wanted to admit to anyone. And that he'd do anything for her. He was almost crazy he wanted her so bad. One night I remember thinking, 'He'd do anything to get her to love him.'" Dawn remembered just what Spike had tried to do. "And I guess I was completely right.

"She never talks about that night, or about why he tried to...do that to her, but she did tell me that, in that moment, she had to admit to herself how much she'd trusted him. She'd trusted him with me and Mom, with little things like helping patrol, and with herself. 'The funny thing,' she said to me, 'Is that, even after he did that...I still trusted him. And I didn't even think about what that meant.'"

Dawn could see clearly in her mind that afternoon, when they sat on the porch at an Italian restaurant. Buffy, of her own accord, brought up Spike. That was the same lunch where she cried. The first time she really cried about what had been lost. Before that, only a few stray tears had leaked through. Dawn remembered the things Buffy had admitted to her that day.

She continued. "And I think that's really the answer. As bad as that was, it didn't really change anything – I was there to watch how it didn't. I swear, the night after the worm guy who ate the yorkie attacked us, Buffy told me about finding Spike at school. She didn't say much, but she thought she owed me an apology. But I didn't care, because I could tell that she was the happiest I'd seen her in so many years, despite the bad things we knew were happening."

Xander listened intently.

"And I think I know why. Spike wasn't the only guy who left...But he was the one who came back."

* * *

"Is that our guy?" Kennedy asked, pointing through a demonic crowd. 

"Sunglasses? Undead mafioso? That's the son of a bitch." Spike vamped out.

The pair menacingly approached the vampire.

"Can I help you?" he asked haughtily.

In a flash Kennedy whipped out a stake and held it to the vamp's chest. "Like hell you can," she said through gritted teeth. "I hope you play by the rules, cos a pile of dust really isn't gonna help us much."

The mafia vamp smiled uneasily. He didn't like the way things were proceeding.

"You'd bloody better listen, or this Slayer will fix it so that you can't listen to anything ever again," Spike growled. "I did what you told me, and it worked at first. So why the hell isn't it bloody working now?"

The other vamp began to chuckle, but he caught himself. "It was what I'd call a...temporary solution. Your girl would be fine until her catatonia is triggered – "

"What triggers it?"

"Who knows? A word, an image, a thought...The poison makes her nightmares a reality too dreadful to handle. You may have cleaned the venom out of her bloodstream, but the drug's effects on her brain are lingering."

Kennedy turned to Spike. "Yeah, I wanted to ask about that. Angel told us what you did, but I don't get how she isn't dead."

The mafia vampire answered to fill Spike's offended and confused silence. "Her blood was full of the demons venom, which had poisoned her body. In effect, the venom that entered her bloodstream and impermiated her organs made her part demon. If the transformation had continued, her human body would have collapsed. And that would of course have led to her death. Clearing out the poisoned blood destroyed the source for further deterioration, but the poison has an effect that outlives its presence."

Spike grabbed the suddenly pedantic vampire's shoulders and threw him against the tabletop. "And what can you bloody do about that? He growled.

The informant smiled nervously. "I can do nothing." Spike slammed the other vampire into the table again. "But you – You can help her! Find yourself a witch, get her to take a stroll in your girl's brain...She'll be stuck repeating the memory that triggered her – have the witch convince her to come back."

Spike turned to Kennedy. "Can Red...?"

"Don't worry. Buffy will come back."

* * *

Buffy didn't understand what had happened to her, or what she was doing, wherever she was. She stood in a simple wooden doorway, which opened into a high school basement, which was crumbling. 

_In the middle of the falling plaster and concrete stood a short blonde woman, her fingers intertwining with those of a slightly taller blonde man._

_"I love you," the woman told him._

_"No you don't," he told her sadly. "But thanks for saying it."_

_

* * *

_Reviews make me smile :)


	6. Send Us In

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

* * *

**6: SEND US IN**

* * *

Spike watched triumphantly as a pixelized Mario fell off the screen. In Nintendo he had multiple lives, and the vampire was determined to end all of them as quickly as possible. 

He'd heard the news over the telephone. Willow was wandering around in Buffy's head and communicating with the others through the computer somehow – she'd magically wired herself to the machine, Spike supposed. From what Harmony had told him, it seemed like Buffy's consciousness was acting as Willow's guide, and leading the witch through the Slayer's memories.

Spike didn't have to be a rocket scientist to see the trend in the type of memories. Memory # 1, learning Angel is a vampire. Memory # 2, discovering Drusilla's relationship to Angel. Memory # 3, Angel becomes Angelus. Memory # 4, being broken up with in a sewer...By Angel.

Spike hadn't needed to know more. He'd unplugged his phone and began his mission to annihilate Mario. So what if her pretty head was filled with Angel? He was busy killing the little Nintendo creep anyway.

As the Nintendo character died yet again, the former Big Bad heard a knock on his door. He knew no one would require an invite to a vampire's home, but still he chose not to invite them in, just to be spiteful. "Who is it?" he called.

"It's me." The voice was familiar.

Curious, Spike got up and opened the door. "Oh, Doyle – er, Lindsey."

Wearing a wry and intelligent smile, Lindsey said, "So you've found me out, huh."

Spike scoffed. "Yeah, you're an evil, lying, cheating, evil lawyer. So, can I do something for you, or are you just here to drive me bloody mad?"

Sighing, Lindsey continued. "Calm down, hero. Of course there's something." He glanced at the half-open door innocently and asked. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Spike left the door as it was and receded into his room without speaking.

Lindsey shrugged and followed smugly. "Guess not."

Spike tore open the refrigerator and sipped cold blood out of a mug. "So _Doyle_," he began, "What exactly are you doing here? Last I heard of you, you were quite busy being whisked off to Hell by those Senior Partner wankers."

Lindsey looked around the drab apartment he'd purchased for Spike. "It just so happens that Angel and Co. decided to rescue me. I came to talk to you as soon as I could. I have a mission for you." The human seemed to be enjoying himself.

"What is it this time? Is there some young bird in trouble that you saw in one of your visions? Oh, that's right – they were all fakes! I'll have you know that I'm not going to help your fake victim. I'm bloody tired of playing your games."

"Why aren't you going save her life? That's what champions do, isn't it?"

"_I'M NOT A BLOODY CHAMPION!_" he shouted, causing the windowpanes on the highest floor to rattle. "I'm just a pawn in your petty revenge plots."

Lindsey looked a bit taken aback, but no where near intimidated enough to back down. "Okay, so maybe your aren't a real champion, like Angel. But you did save those people's lives – and the world back in Sunnydale – that has to mean something, doesn't it?"

Spike waited for him to elaborate, but obviously the statement was intended to be more thought-provoking than informative. Spike was intrigued by the idea, but afraid to let himself follow it to any conclusion. Angel always wins, he reminded himself.

"Now, my sources have informed me that there's a damsel at the office who's in a whole bunch of trouble." Spike listened attentively but didn't once look away from his cup of blood. "I have reason to believe that this case might be of particular interest to you, so consider it before choosing not to help."

"She's already got the Poofter and his pals helping her," Spike said sullenly. "And Red's in there, saving her now."

Lindsey got up to leave. "Well, it's your choice. But when the witch fails to save her, don't say I didn't warn you."

Spike leaped up and blocked the door, causing Lindsey to take an involuntary step backwards. "What's wrong? Why can't Red save Buffy?"

Lindsey shrugged, but Spike wasn't convinced – he believed the other man knew the answer. "All I'm saying is, you should really think about that champion thing." He walked around a pensive Spike and opened the door.

"And by the way, Lindsey," Spike turned and said to him, "I used that 'bed' sooner that you thought."

Lindsey's mouth curled in an expression of amusement. "If you're lucky, you may get a chance to use it again." With that, he walked out the door.

"If that feeble thing breaks, you'd bloody well better buy me a new one!"

* * *

"Buffy, I've already seen this, "Willow said gently, watching the Master push a 16-year-old Buffy into a pool of water...again. "Don't you have somewhere new to take me? Memories we haven't been to yet?" 

Regretfully, the guide Buffy nodded. "Yeah, there are...more." She talked listlessly, and Willow was filled with an ever more urgent desire to cure her. The torment of this hell was definitely taking a toll on the Slayer.

Buffy led her friend down one of Sunnydale High's hallways. Willow noticed that the doors they passed were numbered 16, 17, 18, and onwards. Buffy stopped in front of Room 20, and muttered, "Here we are."

Buffy walked through the school's wall, but Willow tested it with her hand and found it to be entirely solid. Trying her luck with the door, she discovered that it was locked. "Buffy!" she called, "Wait, I'm stuck!"

From outside Room 20, Willow heard Buffy's voice.

_"Come in, Spike." There is a smile in her voice._

_"I know you can never love me. I know I'm just a monster. But you treat me like a man, and that's – "_

* * *

Spike stomped on the gas pedal. Lindsey had a round-about way of saying things (it seemed to be a lawyerly trait), but Spike was positive that the man had told him going to Wolfram and Hart again would somehow help Buffy. He would do absolutely anything for that bird, even if it meant watching her think about Angel. 

The vampire ignored the broad daylight and sprinted up the office steps in a blanket. Once inside Angel's lobby, he spotted Wesley. The sight of the ex-watcher reminded Spike of Giles and the rest of Buffy's friends, all completely unaware of her deteriorating state. He changed directions and headed for Harmony's desk.

"Blondie bear!" she exclaimed.

"Harm, I need the phone," he demanded in way of greeting.

Rolling her well-mascara-ed eyes, she handed him the appliance. "Who are you gonna call? Everyone you know is here already."

"Not quite everyone. Can I have Buffy's number again?"

Harmony protested that Buffy was just in the other room, not to mention incapable of answering the phone, but she handed Spike the number.

"Dawnie, it's the phone!" Xander praised every god he'd ever heard of for the diversion. He was miserably losing chess to the Slayer's sister, and he needed some thinking time.

"_Bonjourno_," Dawn said to the other end of the phone.

"Evening, Bit."

"_EEEEEEE_ –" Xander looked alarmed at Dawn's screech. "Oh-my-god, _SPIKE!_"

"Whoa, Niblet. These vampire ears can hear you loud and clear, there's no need to scream."

Dawn put her hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver. "Xander, guess who's on the phone? Spike!"

"Never would have guessed," muttered Xander. "Wait – _Spike_? As in, he-who-_died_ Spike?"

Spike groaned. "Bit, tell the whelp that the amulet – "

"Hang on, lemme put you on speakerphone!" Dawn told him.

Spikes frustrated voice filled the room. "The amulet was sent to LA and brought me back there. I was a ghost, but now I'm not. But the point is, your sister _is_ here, but she's in trouble. Red's trying to stop her from dying, but we don't know how well it's working. Call Rupert, and all of you fly over here, in case..." the vampire couldn't continue.

"Okay, Spike," Dawn told him. "We'll get the first flight over and help however we can. I know you really care about Buffy, even though you sometimes have really screwed up ways of showing it."

Spike winced. So she still hadn't forgiven him for what he'd tried to do to Buffy. Not that he thought he deserved forgiveness in the slightest.

"Yeah, and I'm not proud of it. See you tonight then, Bit."

With that, Spike walked into Buffy's room.

* * *

"Buffy, why can't I go into any of these rooms?" 

Buffy turned to Willow, with a look on her face that reminded the witch of the night Buffy has first been back alive. "They're locked, and you don't have the right keys."

"Well, can you give them to me?"

Buffy looked at her friend sadly. "I don't have them either. Why do you think I walk through the walls?"

Willow looked down the long hallway. "So who has all the keys?"

"My champion."

Buffy looked at the next door, glanced at her unmarred, and grimaced. From inside the room they could both hear voices.

_"How long was I gone?"_

_"147 days yesterday. Uh ... 148 today. 'Cept today doesn't count, does it?"_

Shivering, the Slayer passed through the wall.

* * *

"How goes it here at Evil Incorporated?" Spike inquired jauntily as he burst into the room. He didn't feel jaunty at all. "How's she doing in there?" he asked Kennedy softly. 

"Fine. But Buffy – she's not getting better."

Spike bit his lip. Lindsey had been right, Angel and his friends did need help...But what could Spike do about that? The vampire tasted blood in his mouth and realized he'd broken the skin of his lip. Swallowing the liquid, he turned to look at Willow's body.

Suddenly the redhead gasped, opening her eyes. "A champion!" she insisted. "She needs a champion!"

"I'm right here," Angel told Willow, coming to stand beside the bed. Spike remained silent. Angel was the real champion.

"There are doors...I can't see all the memories, they're locked away. Only...her champion...can get to the important ones..." Willow fell silent, catching her breath.

Angel looked at Willow. "Send me in." The witch nodded, and set about making the preparations.

For the next few hours, the room was so thick with tension that people seemed to have difficulty moving. Angel alone seemed exempt from the lethargy of the dire situation, and he continued to pace frantically. The scene was downright distressing, and Spike wondered what the bloody hell he was doing there. When you had one noble, souled vampire, fighting on the side of good and making angsty, sarcastic comments, what need was there for a second one?

Spike began to back out the door when he ran into someone. Turning around, he saw that the girl was about his height, and several inches taller in her heels.

Dawn smiled calmly, decisively. "Send me and Spike in too."

* * *

Ok, fine, I must admit that Dawn probably got on the fastest airline flight known to man...CLEARLY she did not need to go through post-9-11 security...but my sister's snide comments aside... 


	7. The Champion

* * *

Disclaimer: see chapter 1**  
**

**

* * *

7: THE CHAMPION  
**

* * *

Angel appeared in the Magic Box, completely alone. He was busy deciding on a plan of action when two more figures shimmered into existence beside him. 

Spike clutched at his head, groaning at its spinning. "Bloody hell. Hangovers and swirly mojo don't mix...You alright, Bit?"

"Yeah..._I'm_ not hung over," she said, smiling. Teasing Spike.

The vampire noticed that the bitty Buffy wasn't really so bitty anymore – the Slayer's sister was his own height at least, and definitely taller than Buffy. _I'll bet Buffy's loving that,_ he thought sarcastically.

Angel interrupted the playful conversation. "Spike. Do you know where we are?"

"Magic Box." At Angel's blank stare, it occurred to Spike that his Grandsire may never have been to the shop. "Giles and Anya's store. He opened it when the Council of Wankers sacked him."

Angel blinked.

"_Riight_, you were gone. Well, they put up shop about two years after you left. And they worked there until Red destroyed it while trying to end the world – _ALSO_ while you were gone." Spike surprised himself with his bitterness, but he realized it was rooted in genuine feeling. He did resent Angel for abandoning Buffy. "And how could you do that to her, mate? Leave her? She loved you – hell, she still does – and you just skipped bloody town?"

"It was for her own good!" Angel defended heatedly. "I didn't want to leave, but I did it to give her a chance at a normal life!"

Spike faced Angel off, growling. "Buffy...is the bloody _SLAYER!_ She can't ever _have_ a normal life! Everyone around her wants her to be happy, but they just don't understand that Buffy –"

"Hey guys." Buffy emerged from behind a maze of bookshelves. Spike and Angel traded apprehensive glances, not sure how long she'd been listening. "What about me, Spike?" Her tone was gentle and curious, but he was still expecting a barrage of don't-plan-my-life-for-me's.

While she waited for the vampire's response, Buffy rushed over to Dawn and fiercely hugged her hello. Spike felt nervous, flustered, and afraid, the way he always felt around the bliss that was Buffy. "I...you look...How are you doing? This place...treating you alright?"

The sweetness of his concern compelled Buffy to lie. "Yeah, it's alright. Not heaven, but hey, neither is the real world." She smiled a crooked smile to accompany her dark joke.

Dawn fidgeted; talk of Buffy's death still made the teenager uncomfortable. Spike, however, showed nothing but sympathy. It made Buffy's smile wider and happier.

"So, Buffy." Angel interrupted the moment, "How are the cookies doing?"

"Uh..." she quickly glanced at Spike and then back at Angel. Spike raised his eyebrow, but she mouthed, "Just don't ask," at him. Still refusing to meet Angel's eyes, she answered, "I...They're almost ready, I guess..." she winced at her blatant omission of exactly how ready they were, remembering her earlier encounter with Spike. The cookies were definitely baked and steaming.

Just then the door opened, streaming sunlight into the room and causing both vampires to jump back. An almost-20-year-old Buffy stormed past the four of them and threw open the door to the training room.

The other Buffy closed the open door and cut off the sunlight. "Sorry," she said to Spike upon returning to his side.

He looked at her amusedly. "You don't have to apologize for that, luv."

"Not that...This."

She walked towards the training room, beckoning for the others to follow.

"C'mon, I'm supposed to be your guide." Spike, Dawn, and Angel followed Buffy to the training room. She indicated a door and then proceeded to walk through the wall, causing Angel's eyes to widen.

Spike, deciding not the waste time gawking at Buffy's bizarre abilities, went for the door, which slammed shut behind him as if on a very powerful hinge. Angel followed, the door decisively closing behind him as well. Dawn wondered if her Summers blood enabled her to walk through walls as well, but she took the door to be on the safe side. It slammed shut behind her.

The group was instantly greeted by the sound of punching.

_"Spike!" 19-year-old Buffy pronounced with disgust. "Spike wants me, how obscene is that?" Punch, punch._

_Giles responded, deep in thought. "Well, it is very strange. I can't imagine what he's thinking. Uh, not, not that you're not, uh, attractive..."_

_Suddenly the punches stopped. "I feel gross," said Buffy. "You know, like, like, dirty." She went back to punching Puffy Xander.  
_  
The older Buffy winced, and glanced at Spike. She didn't want to show him this memory, even if he realized she didn't feel that way anymore. But subconsciously, she knew the path she took through the strange land of her memories, and she was just guiding her friends down it. One friend in particular.

_"That's ridiculous, you can't be responsible for what Spike thinks, or, feels."_

_"Well, aren't I responsible?" Buffy ranted. "I mean, something about me had to make him say, 'woof, that's the one for me!'"  
_  
Spike swallowed. It hurt to see this, even though she'd said the same thing to him many times before. One couldn't desensitize to something like that.

_The younger Buffy delivered a storm of violent punches to Puffy Xander, releasing some of her anger. "That's my secret to attracting men. You know, it's simple really, you slap 'em around a bit, you torture 'em, you make their lives a living hell –"  
_  
Buffy was watching Spike. Shit, he's taking this like I was afraid he would... "Spike..." she tried, but he was fully caught up in the memory they were watching and didn't hear.

_"- And sure, the nice guys, they'll run away, but every now and then you'll meet a real _prince_ of a guy like Spike who gets off on it."  
_  
_Of course she feels that way,_ thought Spike. _It's natural...I'm a monster, not even a man really...And then I went and threw myself at her, buggering git.  
_  
_Buffy looked at Xander sadly. "I just wanna know that there's gonna be another good one. One that I won't chase away."_

_"There will be," her friend consoled. "Promise. He's out there, he could come along any minute."_

_"Yeah, and the minute after that I can terrify him with my alarming strength and remarkable self-involvement."  
_  
Spike started to back up slowly, trying not to draw attention. This was ripping him up inside, and he didn't want Buffy to see him cry. On his way past her she shot her hand out and grabbed his. "Spike, wait."

"Buffy..." He looked away from her.

"We can go. Get out of here, go somewhere else?"

_"Maybe I could change. You know, I could, I could work harder. I could spend less time slaying, I could laugh at his jokes, I mean, men like that, right, the, the joke-laughing-at?"  
_  
Buffy pushed Spike out of the room, feeling guilty.

_Xander turned to Buffy, speaking with Xander wisdom. "Or maybe you could just be Buffy, he'll see your amazing heart, and he'll fall in love with you."  
_  
Buffy looked at Spike's back, thinking what a prophet Xander was. Spike, however, listened and smiled weakly. It didn't occur to him to wonder why that sentence had found its way into Buffy's selected memories.

"Where are we going, pet?" He ran beside the Slayer.

Buffy looked thoughtful. "I dunno. Somewhere nice." Corridors whizzed past them, and various Buffy memories leaped out only to get sucked into the expanse of territory rapidly disappearing behind the vampire and the Slayer.

Spike watched her search her mind for a refuge. He didn't understand how her brain worked – one moment she hated him and the next she was rushing to take him somewhere. She was such a mystery. Just the kind of mystery he intuitively understood. "Buffy, it doesn't have to be posh. Won't somewhere peaceful and quiet do?"

She smiled. "Yeah, I guess it will." They ran a bit longer, until their surroundings seemed to slow down and eventually settled around them. The pair stood inside the cement walls of Buffy's Sunnydale basement. Spike's bed sat against the wall, complete with chains.

"Guess you really took me literally when I said it didn't have to be posh, didn't you, pet?"

"I dunno. I kinda like it." She scanned the room with her hazel eyes. "I mean, it doesn't have any distracting furnishing. Just the bare necessities," she commented, smiling seductively, turning her gaze away from the bed. "And it's nice, how it's just us."

"Just us?" echoed the vamp, a question hiding behind his words.

"That's what I said, Fangface."

Spike frowned but didn't protest when she pressed against him, her hands on his chest. He looked down into her face, which displayed a scared, unsure expression. Delicately, the vampire took a section of her golden hair between his fingers and moved it in front of her shoulder, letting his touch follow as he laid the hair against her chest.

Buffy shivered pleasantly as the outside of his fingers brushed over her hardened nipples. "Spike..." she murmured.

Immediately he removed his hand, taking a minute step back and eliminating all contact. "What is it, luv?" He was never going to hurt her again the way he had before, not ever. Not for the rest of his unlife would he do something she didn't want.

"Nothing," she assured him, smiling in confusion. Pouting, she resumed their pressed-together position, assuring herself with the hardness of his erection that he still wanted her. "I was just bothered by the fact that you are still completely dressed." She slid her hands up the front of his shirt, offering to help address the problem.

Grinning, Spike aided Buffy in the removal of her shirt. He ran his cool hands down her bare arms, kissing her neck. His fingers reached the waistband of her skirt and slipped inside, stroking her stomach. "Like the skirt, luv."

"Thanks, it's new. Nordstrom, on sale."

He combed her hair through his fingers, kissing her gently. "I'll remember that, in case I want a skirt to add variety into my wardrobe," he told her, not forgetting to add in a healthy dose of sarcasm.

Buffy guided him over to the bed, stroking his pale chest and stomach. "You sound so sincere. It's touching, really."

He reached over her to unhook her bra, and began licking and sucking on her hardened nipples. With his hands he slowly slid her new skirt down her legs. "It's cos I care." He ran his fingertips over the lace of her panties.

"Spike?" she asked softly, toying with his fly. Suddenly she pulled it open quickly, allowing his erection to poke out. "Still no-underpants-man, I see. I want you to shag me." She glanced over at the chained handcuffs and pulled on them experimentally, a playful grin on her face.

He moved over her, smirking. "I like a woman who knows what she wants. Especially when she admits it." He loved how she used his word too, especially when she applied her terrible mock-British accent.

Buffy flicked her tongue against his cool chest. "Sorry you had to wait so long for that."

Pausing in his feverish kissing of her face and hair, Spike watched Buffy in bewilderment. Maybe she knew what she wanted...but he had no fucking idea.

* * *

Angel and Dawn followed the younger Buffy, who had quit complaining about Spike. She seemed much more interested in yelling at Angel. 

"So, where do I go next?" the vamp asked.

"Can you _shut up_ already!" Buffy demanded. "You can't just walk back into my life!"

Angel continued on in an angrier tone. "And what was that last memory about anyway? It didn't get me any closer to knowing how to save you, it just made Spike leave the room!"

"With the other Buffy," Dawn pointed out. She wasn't too keen on looking for them – she had a vague idea of their current need for privacy.

Their Buffy turned to Angel furiously, preparing to answer his question as loudly as physically possible. "The memory was important. Maybe not to you, but can't you get it into your head that not _everything's_ about _YOU!_ The _CHAMPION_ needs to see it to understand how to save me!"

Angel stared at her in silence. "You're not telling me what I thing you're telling me – That's what you're telling me, isn't it? You're saying _Spike_ is the champion."

Buffy didn't even honor his revelation with the trademarked Sunnydale "Duh," although she did roll her eyes. "Yes, Spike is the champion. And that memory was important for him."

Angel felt himself sinking into deep brood mode. "What does he have to do, tell you he loves you?" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Something like that," the Slayer muttered. She stalked on ahead of her brooding ex, Dawn at her side.

* * *

"Spike!" Buffy screamed as she came. She loved how there was no one around to hear, no one to come and interrupt the happiness of the basement. The vampire thrust into her a few more times before climaxing, and then collapsed beside her, exhausted. Buffy smiled and snuggled into him, but a wave of nausea flooded her briefly. Strange, she thought, sitting up. She didn't notice Spike's worried look, because her surroundings swam around in her head. Once the dizziness cleared, she realized what was happening to her. She was deteriorating, fading away, and there wasn't much time left for Spike to save her. 

There wasn't much time left to make him understand.

_Maybe it'll be alright,_ she told herself. _Maybe he doesn't need to, maybe he already gets it. Maybe.  
_  
"Spike," she announced reluctantly, "We have to go see the next thing. Unfortunately, I think that means you'll have to get dressed..." Her eyes scanned his naked form approvingly. "It's really such a pity."

Spike smirked, and kissed her forehead. Then he rolled off the bed to locate his jeans. Buffy sat up and fished her clothing out of the sheets. Now that she was paying attention to her health, she realized that she felt unquestionably crappy. _Not of the good,_ she thought to herself.

Once she'd managed to replace her crumpled clothing, she stood up, shook off the dizziness, and pressed herself up against Spike. "Mmm...Sexy vampire," she murmured, nuzzling into the black cotton covering his chest and enveloping herself in his smell. He smiled at her and stroked her hair.

She looked up at his face, resting her arms comfortably on his shoulders and crossing them behind his neck. He was a wonderful height – his mouth was close enough to hers that she could kiss it without wearing four-inch heels, but he was tall enough to enclose her in his embrace. They were the perfect match, and they fit perfectly.

"Spike," she ran her index finger up his chest, "How much do you love me?"

"Without lapsing into god-awful poetry, I love you...Even my stuffy British education didn't teach me words to express..." He brushed one finger under her chin, keeping her face right in front of his. She smiled. "I love you more than life itself. Or unlife, as the case may be. I'd rather die again than have you be upset."

Buffy just looked at him. She had a slight grin in her lips and worry softly etched in her eyebrows. "I love you," she told him, being assured of the futility when he looked away from her. His hands continued stroking her back, but the rest of him was gone somewhere else. "C'mon," she said without emotion. "We have things to see."

* * *

Aww...so sad. sniff Hopefully everyone feels pleasantly emotionally distraught... 

On a different note...whisper reviews?


	8. Fading

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

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* * *

8: Fading**

* * *

"An alley? She's going into a dark alley, alone with him?" Angel asked no one in particular. The Buffy from the training room kicked his shins lightly, but not without meaning. She was beginning to regret taking Angel to watch this memory, but she'd had hopes it might help shrink the Buffy- loves-me part of his ego back to a healthy size. It had been next on the agenda for Spike, but she figured his ego needed no shrinking of any kind anyway, so it was just as well he was absent. 

Dawn could hear Spike talking to her sister, and she turned around to the pair behind her. "Shut up, guys, the memory's playing already." _God,_ she thought, _I talk like it's a movie or something. This is my sister's brain! The severity of the situation crashed down on the Slayer's sister._ Buffy was dying; they were in her mind to find a way to save her. Nope, definitely not a picnic.

_"That's all it is to you, isn't it? Just another body!"_

_He sighed, not sure exactly what to say. Everything he said seemed to make it worse. "Buffy-" _

_She punched him angrily. He managed to deflect the first few punches, but she went around him and delivered a sound blow to his stomach. He was obviously in pain, but he said nothing. She hit him a few times more, waiting for him to block her hit her back. _

_He did nothing. "Come on, that's it, put it on me," he told her. "Put it all on me." _

_Furiously, she kicked him hard. "That's my girl." _

_"__I am not your girl!" she shouted. She hit him hard, knocking him to the ground. She straddled him and punched him repeatedly. "You don't ... have a soul! There is nothing good or clean in you. You are dead inside! You can't feel anything real!" _

_S__he punched him as hard as she could, waiting for her assault to become too much and cause him to retaliate. _

_"I could never...be your girl!" She hit him again and again, punctuating her shouts with blows. Spike's bloody face returned to human, and with his clear blue eyes he passively watched her pummel him. _

_Suddenly she realized that he wasn't going to do anything. He was letting her take all her anger out on him, allowing her to beat him to a pulp. He looked almost as bad as after Glory. _

_Her rain of punches stopped as she stared at the battered vampire in horror. _

_"You always hurt ... the one you love, pet." _

_She got up, still staring at him in a look that mixed dread and disbelief. _

_"Buffy?" _

_She walked past him determinedly. _

_He tried to stop her but his bruised body couldn't reach. In despair and pain, he murmured, "Buffy..."_

Angel stared in shock. Then he turned to the other two. "What makes Spike think she could be in love with him? She never treated me like that, even when I was evil!"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Angel, did you see her take Spike and leave the room? She OBVIOUSLY hates this memory, and she OBVIOUSLY didn't want him to see it, even though he was supposed to." At Angel's blank stare of non-comprehension, she sighed exasperatedly. "Imperceptive much?"

Training-room Buffy coughed several times, eventually managing to gasp in some breath. Dawn and Angel heard her through their bickering, and turned worried glances on her. "I'm fine," she told them moodily. "It just means there isn't much time."

* * *

The pair of blondes walked in an uncomfortable silence that was stifling. Spike couldn't help getting the impression that he'd said something wrong, although he had no idea what it could have been. It seemed like he hadn't said much of anything. "Bugger. Angel. Watch out, luv, wouldn't fancy getting caught in the crossfire." 

"He's still here?" was Buffy's lifeless response.

Spike watched. And listened. "Seems he's talking the ears off of your younger counterpart over there."

Buffy looked and groaned. "Great. And he's standing right in front of my door, too."

The vampire and the Slayer apprehensively approached Angel, Dawn, and the younger Buffy, who was trying to sneak off while Angel wasn't looking.

"Buffy!" exclaimed Angel. "Spike didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Oh, he _DID_...But not half as much as I hurt him." Buffy's eyes twinkled, implying hurting of the less-bad variety. "He knows so many things to do with chains." Spike glanced at his Grandsire, and noticed with delight that Angel was spluttering and furious.

Dawn noticed that something about her sister seemed off – she'd verbally attacked Angel for only one anti-Spike statement. Obviously more had happened to put her in such a foul mood than she was letting on.

"Well anyway," Buffy continued, "You're blocking the door I need, so I'd seriously appreciate it if you'd move." Angel stared at her, seemingly in shock, and then stepped to the side. Buffy walked through the wall, and Spike walked up to the door. As he passed Angel he spared the other vampire what looked like a forcedly apologetic glance. "Sorry 'bout that," he muttered, and opened the door.

Angel leapt at the door as it shut, trying to pull it open. But the door appeared to be jammed or locked very securely, because all of his vampire strength didn't even made the door creak. "Damn it!" shouted Angel. "He's with her, alone, again!"

"Didn't Willow say she got locked out of some of the memories too?" ventured Dawn.

Angel nodded, thinking about it. Willow had mentioned something about not having the keys, and that only Buffy's champion actually had the keys. "Damn it!" he announced once more. Somehow Spike, and...and whatever it was about him, had managed to get himself invited into Buffy's memories. It seemed there was nothing he could do. Furthermore, training-room Buffy had finally sneaked off. The various Buffies that wandered down the hallway periodically all rushed past Angel. Rejection, he decided, was not a pleasant feeling.

* * *

_"Ohhh. Oh, my God!" Buffy hugged the man fiercely. "I was freaking out! You just disappeared."_

_Angelus looked at her with an aloof demeanor. "What? I took off." He went to his bed and grabbed his shirt. "You got a lot to learn about men, kiddo. Although I guess you proved that last night."_

Spike was furious. Couldn't the bastard see what he was doing to this wonderful girl who didn't deserve a word of his taunting?

_Buffy couldn't believe what she was hearing. Angel wasn't like this, he was sweet and caring, and he loved her. He really couldn't be this mean, unless...unless she'd been horrible. "I, I don't understand. Was it m-me?" Meekly, she continued, "Was I not good?"  
_  
Buffy watched from beside Spike, the same emotions running through her body as through the 17-year-old's. There was a place somewhere inside of her that would always be an insecure little girl, desiring praise. Wanting to feel wanted. She smiled as she felt Spike's arms around her waist. He knew that little girl and loved her as much as he loved the rest of the Buffy package.

_Angelus laughed loudly. "You were great. Really. I thought you were a _pro_." He laughed again, as if they both found it absolutely hilarious. "Come on, Buffy. It's not like I've never been there before."_

_In an almost condescending manner, he brought his hand up to brush her face, but she pulled back. "Don't touch me."_

_"I should've known you wouldn't be able to handle it."_

_"Angel!" she called, as he started to leave. He turned to look at her. "I love you."_

_"Love you, too." Walking away, he said over his shoulder, "I'll call you."_

_As soon as he passed through the door, Buffy's wet eyes began leaking more profusely. How could he be treating her like this? He was acting like everything she'd thought Angel wasn't.  
_  
Spike couldn't take it anymore. The sight of the little Buffy, tears streaming down her young face, was overwhelming, and he knew he had to do whatever was in his power to stop her from hurting so much. He took a few tentative steps, wondering if he was supposed to.

"Go on," the older Buffy urged.

"There now, pet," he said softly to the crying teenager.

The small Buffy turned red-rimmed eyes on him. "Spike?" she asked with scorn, "What are you doing here?"

"Damage control," he said simply. "Bugger, he can be a right bastard, can't he." His gaze followed the direction Angel had gone.

Buffy sniffed. "I still don't get what game you're playing with me." She looked up at the bleached-blonde who'd recently threatened to kill her numerous times.

"Don't do the games, luv. That's Dru's piece of cake. Or, Angel's – only when he's evil, of course."

The 17-year-old Buffy looked up at him skeptically. "But aren't you supposed to be evil? You know, Big Bad, trying to kill me and all?"

"Well, yeah, but the killing you hasn't been working out so well." He smiled at her reassuringly, also seeing the humorous element to his words. "Plus I kind of lost my incentive. And I figure, what with Angelus and all, we're kind of fighting for a common cause."

Little Buffy rubbed her swollen eyes. "So you're, like, my...ally?"

He brushed her soft hair off her face. "Of sorts." She thought about this, and then burst out laughing. "Hey, what's so funny?" he demanded.

"It's just – Angel's all big with the souly goodness and all, and here YOU are, pretending to be evil, and treating me nicer than he ever has." She smoothed a platinum curl that was springing out of his gel. "You just suck at being the Big Bad."

The blonde vamp protested. "Now that's not very –"

"– In a nice way," high school Buffy amended. She watched him look into her eyes with an expression of...love, she was inclined to say, even though that couldn't be right. However, having his gaze constantly on her eventually made her self-conscious, and she avoided his eyes. Looking around Angel's bedroom, she noticed the crumpled post-sex sheets. That night with him, and all the things he'd just said to her, came flooding back.

The Slayer wiped tears off her cheeks, but couldn't stop crying. Spike watched her shoulders heaving and impulsively wrapped his arms around them. "Shh...It'll be alright, pet. Not good or nice, but you'll pull through. Don't get me wrong, he'll be cruel as he can manage...But you're stronger than that, Buffy."

Sobbing silently, she leaned into his arms. It was strange, having her arch- enemy there to hold her after Angel hurt her. Strange, but nice. She nestled her cheek against his chest.

Spike looked up when he heard footsteps, but continued to stroke Buffy's hair. It was the guide-Buffy. Slowly 17-year-old Buffy picked her head up and looked at her older counterpart. "How's he doing? Are you taking him to the real thing?" she asked hopefully.

"He's not ready," replied the other Buffy, her voice dead and emotionless. With a slight hint of sadness, she explained, "He still doesn't understand."

The younger Buffy glared at her older counterpart with a look that reminded Spike of Dawn. "Well, I'm not surprised, after the way you acted."

"Neither am I."

Somberly, the little Buffy climbed out of his arms and gently kissed his forehead. "Good luck," she whispered. "But hurry – we need our champion." She smiled at him as he got up to follow the older Buffy. For those few seconds, he'd been sure he'd gone to heaven and been kissed by an angel.

* * *

"Why do these things keep happening to me? How can she pick him over me?" Angel brooded aloud. 

"She's rejected you _before?_" Dawn inquired, a little more enthusiastically than was altogether respectful. Despite past traumas concerning Spike, she'd always been more of a Spike fan than an Angel fan.

"Well, when I came by to give her the amulet – you know, the one Spike used – she didn't want me to stay. She wouldn't say it, but I figured it was about him."

The pair wandered along the hallway, Angel pausing at various doors and trying to open them. The further they traveled, the fewer doors allowed the vampire in. The only memories he could see were from before he'd left Sunnydale, plus a few during Buffy's college years.

After his 90th rejection or so, Angel slammed his fist into the wall in frustration. "No!"

"The wall do something to you?" Dawn asked sarcastically, wearing a very Spike-ish expression on her face.

Angel looked at her hopelessly, and Dawn felt sorry for him, even though he'd hurt Spike in the past and made her sister cry. "I realize that Spike's the champion – I understand that – but I still don't see why I can't at least try! I want her to come back as much as he does!"

"Maybe...these memories are, like, private. Maybe she doesn't want to share them with us, and that's why we can't get in?" Dawn suggested, knowing Angel wouldn't appreciate the idea. "Maybe the best way to get her back is just to wait, for something you can do. You should just let Spike save her, since it's not like he's gonna ever give up." The big brooder stared at a spot on the wall in silence.

"Does she really love him?" Angel murmured to himself. "Does she really not love me anymore?"

* * *

Buffy and Spike stood in an abandoned room, pressed up against the wall beside a large comfy chair. The two of them watched as a different Buffy and Spike conversed. 

_Buffy was hugging her knees on top of a bed, and Spike knelt on the floor beside her. _

_Commandingly, he told her, "You listen to me. I've been alive a bit longer than you and dead a lot longer than that. I've seen things you couldn't imagine and done things I'd prefer you didn't._

_"I don't exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain –" she smiled weakly – "So I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years and there's only one thing I've ever been sure of." He looked into her eyes for emphasis. "You."_

_He reached up to touch her face, but she turned it away. She didn't deserve this devotion, this worship.  
_  
Suddenly the guide-Buffy coughed violently. The Spike beside her looked at her worriedly, noticing that she looked a little pink-cheeked.

_The memory-Spike placed his fingers on the far side of Buffy's chin and turned her head to face him. "Hey, look at me," he said. "I'm not asking you for anything."_

_His expression grew even gentler, and intensely sincere. She'd have been a fool not to believe even one word of what he said. _

_"When I say I love you, it's not because I want you, or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do...how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are."_

The other Spike smiled softly.

_"You are a hell of a woman."  
_  
_Tears dripped down Buffy's cheeks as she looked down at the man kneeling before her._

_"You're the one, Buffy."_

_Sad and scared, Buffy replied, "I don't want to be the one."_

_"I don't want to be this good-looking and athletic," Spike joked. "We all have crosses to bear." To that, Buffy smiled in spite of herself. He really was a poet at heart; he was so good with words, and always knew exactly what to say._

The other Buffy laughed at him, but the laugh dissolved into another coughing fit, leaving her winded for several moments after.

_"You get some rest now." Looking at her tenderly, he got up and approached the door. "I'll check in before first light. You can decide how you want –"_

_"Spike?" He turned towards her again.  
_  
The guide-Buffy found her Spike's hand and squeezed it gently.

_Buffy continued tentatively. "Could you stay here?"_

_A little surprised but in no way planning on declining, Spike replied reassuringly. "Sure." He shrugged off his duster. "That diabolical torture device, the comfy chair. Do me fine."_

_Buffy responded uncertainly. "No. I mean... here." She patted the space on the bed beside her._

_Spike cocked his head curiously._

_Shyly, she continued in a soft voice. "Will you just hold me?"_

_Spike nodded and walked to the bed, sitting down beside her. Lovingly he wrapped his arms around her, and she snuggled into him with a peaceful expression.  
_  
The other Buffy looked at the vampire holding her hand, as if trying to gauge something. Wincing, she coughed again, having to look away.

"Buffy? Buffy, what's wrong?"

"I..." she coughed again. "Spike, we need to go _now_, ready or not. We can't last much longer." She collapsed in another coughing fit. He picked her up in his arms, following her directions.

Turn right, go straight, turn left up the stairs... He ran it over and over in his head.

Along the way, she started sobbing in between coughs. "Spike...I don't want to die again..."

"You won't, luv. I don't know where your champion is, but I'll do anything. Anything for you." She smiled hopefully. "Just tell me what to do."

* * *

You know. 


	9. Two of Us

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

**

* * *

9: TWO OF US  
**

* * *

As Spike and Buffy ran down the hallway, they could hear the sounds of concrete collapsing. Pained voices shouted to one another and gasped as the life drained from them, and a the general din of battle made the air heavy. 

Suddenly Spike turned a corner and was faced with the end of the hallway. The white walls were so bare that their lack of adornment seemed obnoxiously obvious and oppressive. The end of the hallway of Buffy's mind, and there was no grandeur marking its significance. Just a blank wall, with a single door punched through the middle of it.

The door itself seemed like it could have been ornate, once. It was taller and sturdier than the Sunnydale High-styled doors from earlier, and its solid wood wasn't even. The surface had obviously been carved to begin with, but the shapes and designs had been worn away. The old-fashioned hinges had perhaps once been smooth and strong, but the same abuse had dented and weakened them. Nevertheless, the decrepit door stood as a steadfast challenge, as if it said "I've seen the worst, and I'm completely prepared to give it to anyone who defies me." Spike stared at it dubiously.

"Through there," Buffy told him confidently.

Spike stepped up to the door, and reached towards the metal handle.

* * *

_"Bloody hell!"_

The exclamation reverberated down the maze-like hallways. Dawn stood up suddenly, worried. "That's Spike!"

Angel groaned. "Sounds like."

_"Bloody, sodding, fucking hell!"_

Dawn broke into a furious run, aiming at the door Spike and Buffy had disappeared into. Just as she neared it enough to crash into the wood, the lock popped open and the door swung inwards, allowing her to pass through. She tore through Angel's bedroom and past the room of the abandoned house, down the hallways towards the sound of the vampire's voice. Not a single door met her with resistance. "Spike..." she breathlessly shouted as she ran, "Spike, I'm coming to help you!"

* * *

Buffy slapped at Spike's hand, extinguishing the flames. He then brought it to his mouth and licked the sores, allowing his vampire saliva to speed up his natural healing rate. "The door...I guess it's shielded." 

"That was a sodding stupid thing for you to do to it," he grumbled.

Buffy looked indignant, even through her malady. "What? Me? I didn't do anything to it! It's just, I guess, extra protection...Since what's in there is the most severely poisoned part of my brain..." She coughed, and Spike could tell that she was only getting sicker.

"Right, so there's a safety lock on the door we need to get through. But where's the bloody key?"

* * *

_How come all the doors are opening? I'm not even touching them! And they're locked at first, but somehow..._ Dawn's mind zoomed backwards in time, a sudden memory flashing before her. 

_She stood in front of Glory, her heart pounding. She knew this dangerous woman could kill her as easily as Dawn could crush an ant under her shoe._

_"What's it for? I mean ... if it's a key, there's gotta be a lock, right?"_

Dawn gasped. _Maybe not just one lock,_ she realized. _Maybe it's more like..._any _lock_.

"Spike! Buffy!" Dawn was out of breath but she forced out the names.

Spike looked at his Niblet gravely. "Dawn, your Big Sis...she's dying." Dawn turned her gaze to Buffy, looking almost angry. "I could help her, if only that sodding door would let me through –"

"No problem." Dawn actually smiled, a little. For the first time in her entire life she was being really and truly helpful. For the first time since she'd found out, being a big weird ball of pre-historic energy seemed pretty awesome.

The teenager stepped up towards the door, and put her hand on its handle. "Bit, watch –" Spike started to shout, but no fire leapt out at the girl. Instead, there was a grating noise from behind the heavy door, and it swung open.

"Niblet, how did you..."

"She's the Key," said Buffy proudly with sudden understanding.

The sounds from beyond the door were agonizingly loud without the muffling of the solid wood. Voices sailed above the sounds of battle.

_"Go on, then."_

_"No! No, you've done enough! You could still—"_

"What do I have to do, Buffy?"

_"No, you've beaten them back. It's for me to do the cleanup."_

_Faith called to her frantically. "Buffy, come on!"_

Buffy coughed. "Just...Step in there...Play the part, live it again..."

_"Gotta move, lamb. I think it's fair to say, school's out for the bloody summer."_

Spike stepped through the doorway and felt like he'd been sucked into a tornado. Suddenly he was standing at the Hellmouth, an army of Übervamps being blasted by the light coming from the amulet around his neck. He was there once more, saying the words he said when he knew he had only a few more seconds to live.

_"Spike!"  
_  
"Spike..." Buffy whispered after him, watching him adjust to the surroundings she was so sure he remembered.

"I mean it! I gotta do this." Spike knew he had two Buffys to save now instead of one.

_Suddenly the amulet's light flared up and memory-Buffy threaded her fingers through Spike's. The two hands burst into flame, but Buffy ignored them and looked into her vampire's eyes steadily.  
_  
_"I love you."  
_  
"No, you don't," said Spike softly, reciting from a million dreams. "But thanks for saying it."

_There were a few moments of cold, deathly silence, and then the scene deviated from the way Spike recalled it. The crumbling walls of Sunnydale High disintegrated faster, turning into dust. He felt the fire, lapping at his body, but instead of intense pain he felt numb. The Buffy in front of him spat blood out of her mouth, coughing so intensely she was unable to breathe. Spike noticed the blood under her skin stop flowing, causing her flesh to become bright red and fade into purplish blue. She writhed in agony, welts cracking open all over her body and pouring blood out onto the dirt._

"No..."

* * *

"What's happening?" Willow demanded of the nurse worriedly. "What's wrong with Buffy?" 

The Slayer twisted in the bed, choking and tangling herself in the sheets as she flailed her limbs. She let out a terrible scream, spewing pain, fear, and stabbing sadness into the entire building.

"The heart monitor!" shouted Wesley, pointing to the beeping device.

The entire room was silent as they watched the computerized waves show Buffy's heartbeat grow fainter and fainter. Suddenly the room was filled with a single, solid tone. "Oh God..." said Gunn, to no one in particular.

* * *

Spike saw the Buffy who waited outside the door fall to the ground. He heard two identical heartbeats slow and weaken. "No...God, Buffy!" He ran to the side of the guide-Buffy, pulling her into his lap. 

"Spike..." she coughed.

"Shh, luv, it'll be alright...I'll save you, I promised..." Even as he said the words, he knew he'd failed her. Again she was dying, and he hadn't been able to keep his promise to her. Already in his arms her heartbeat wavered out, and cracks appeared in her otherwise smooth skin. Her potent blood oozed from the blisters covering her skin, and to Spike it smelled poisoned and dead.

"No!" he hollered.

Suddenly he stood on the back of a ledge. A small army of teenage girls battled ugly Übervamps. The scythe in Buffy's hands was a deadly but graceful weapon, twirling around her fingers to slice the head off of one Turok-han, and stake another.

_I love what you are,_ he remembered saying, w_hat you do...how you try._ Spike realized that he no longer really felt his love for Buffy, because it had become such a natural part of him. Loving her wasn't about wanting her or feeling the pain of her rejection, or even about wanting to laugh of joy when she entered the room. It was about glowing.

Which seemed to be what he was doing currently. "Buffy!" he shouted. She turned towards him, shock evident in her expression.

"Spike!" He was surprised to see other emotions on her face...Concern...Pride...

Suddenly sunlight exploded from the medallion, flooding the cavern with a purification energy that burned every Turok-han to a crisp. "I can feel it, Buffy..." he told her.

She watched him, panicking but having no idea what to do to help him. "What?"

"My soul. It's really there." He half-smiled, and felt happiness consume him as he glowed. He was helping. He was really, finally helping Buffy, and he didn't care if he died doing it. Especially not when he knew he'd come back. "It kind of stings."

Buffy looked around them frantically, and then back at Spike. He saw something else in her expression, a powerful feeling he could see through her eyes. It was wonderful and painful and bloody bewildering.

"Buffy, I...I've gotta do this! I've gotta help, it's the only thing I can do."

She stared at him, and she looked almost angry. "Spike! I know, but – I don't want to lose you down here..."

A large piece of the ceiling fell feet from where the two of them stood. "Pet, you've got to get out of here. Don't worry about me, hurry up and go!" Flames erupted all over his body.

Buffy clasped his hand bravely. "I don't want to be up there without you, Spike." She paused, scanning his face. Searching for a way to achieve credibility. "I love you."

All the same thoughts scurried through Spike's mind. _No, she doesn't. She's just saying it to save my life. Or she's saying it because I'm dying, and she won't have to deal with the consequences. She knows it's what I want to hear. She can't have forgotten – she can never love me, because I'm a monster._ But memories rose unbidden to Spike's eyes.

_"I can't love you. I'm just ... being weak, and selfish...and it's killing me. "_

_"Could you stay here?" "Will you just hold me?"_

_"This might be the key to everything. And the reason I'm holding it is because of you."  
_  
Spike remembered holding Buffy on the sofa in LA. And after making love inside her head. He remembered every time he'd ever held her and imagined what it would be like to hear her say it. He could hear her voice. _"I love you."_

"I love you, Buffy."

Spike was on fire. Her hot lips against his sent almost intolerable warmth through his body out to the tips of his fingers and toes and made his cock press painfully against his jeans. He loved her, and she loved him. And it didn't matter at all that they were both going to die in just a few seconds, because Buffy loved him.

* * *

"Unbelievable," Wesley murmured as the steady beep of the heart monitor jumped back to life. 

"Her heart beats again," Illyria informed the room. "She is always dying and returning, is she not? I remember Angel's grief last time..."

Wesley looked at her suspiciously. "How can you? You weren't there."

Illyria tilted her head. "No. But I remember it." Wesley looked at her curiously, at the look in her eyes that was almost unquestionably Fred's.

Suddenly Spike, Dawn, and Angel appeared, sprawled in a pile on the floor. Dawn and Angel picked themselves up, but the blonde vampire remained unmoving on the floor.

"What happened?" Angel looked from face to face.

Willow looked at Angel, a little confused. "Looks kinda like you saved her, to me."

Angel looked over at the Slayer, sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed. "I didn't save her. Spike did."

* * *

Like it? Tell me what you think! 


	10. Someday

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

**

* * *

10: SOMEDAY**

* * *

Buffy woke up to a nearly empty room. Only Angel sat in a chair against the wall; the others had either gone to watch Spike or Dawn or carried on with their ordinary lives. Buffy's mind was filled with the sort of elusive memories that are the remainders of dreams: she remembered Spike holding her, kissing her, shouting her name... 

"Buffy...You're awake."

The Slayer groaned as she twisted and stretched in the bed. "Yeah...ugh. Tired. You look kind of tired yourself, Angel."

"It's nothing. Going into your head just took a lot out of me."

_Oh. So it was him, not Spike._ Buffy smiled distractedly. _Why wouldn't Spike be here, to help me? The Spike I remember would have stopped at nothing to save me...Maybe he's decided he doesn't want to be around me anymore...  
_  
"Do I have...real clothes somewhere?" Buffy asked, looking at her hospital gown. Angel gestured to the pile on a chair near the bed. There was an awkward silence as Buffy stared at him, but then Angel finally understood and left the room, closing the door. The Slayer could tell he was pacing outside. She quickly changed, ran her fingers through her tangled bed-hair, and joined Angel outside.

Angel smiled at her. "Nice to see you back among the conscious. Not to mention back in America. How long are you planning on staying?"

Buffy shrugged, focused on some unintelligible point in the distance. "I have a ticket back to Italy for this Thursday. So staying?...Not so much."

Angel nodded.

A blonde vampire approached Angel and Buffy. She brushed her long hair behind her ear. "Hey bossie! I'm here to tell you that, um..." she glanced at a memo, "the younger Miss Summers is conscious and waiting in the lobby for the Slayer, as soon as she's...Well, now, I guess."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, surprised at the new, professional and _useful_ Harmony. "Thank you, Harmony," Angel told her, and he began to lead Buffy to the lobby, the Slayer's mind completely on a different blonde vamp.

As soon as Buffy walked into Angel's lobby, her sister rushed at her and hugged her fiercely. "Buffy!" screamed Dawn, "You're all right! We were so worried!"

Buffy smiled. "So am I. What were you doing being unconscious?"

"I went into your mind to help you out, stupid. Seriously, you've got issues, scolding me for saving your butt."

Images of Dawn running, Dawn speaking, and Dawn opening a sturdy, old- fashioned door flashed through Buffy's mind. _I remember her, and she was there. What if he was too?_

Suddenly Buffy's attention was focused on the people wandering through the lobby. There were all types: scaly or drippy demons, humans, vampires, shamans...The Slayer's eyes searched for a black-clad figure, topped with pale blonde hair.

_Spike. Spike, are you here, somewhere? Did you hear what I wanted to tell you?_

* * *

Wesley's eyes never left the form of the unconscious vampire. The ex-watcher had been shocked by the risk the demon had chosen to take, and Spike's survival was suddenly very important to Wesley.

Spike stirred. Then he rolled over and produced a groan. Gunn elbowed Wesley.

"Spike?" asked Wesley tentatively.

Spike's blue gaze fixed upon the human. Wesley got up out of his chair and came closer to the vampire's side.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I got myself completely knackered, wandered through a meat grinder, and woke up with one hell of a hangover. But apart from that..." He groaned again.

"Sounds...absolutely smashing," commented Wesley unconvincingly.

Gunn nudged Wesley again. "Wes, Harmony says the Summers ladies are awake. Think I'm gonna go welcome them back to the wakeful world." Wesley nodded and watched the other man leave.

Then he turned back to Spike. "Spike..." Wesley looked into Spike's face, trying to draw his courage to say what he wanted to say. "What you did, back there...Was incredibly valiant. I-I had not expected you to take such a risk, and I'm...Well, I must say I'm impressed." Spike raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you're a vampire, and – "

"I love her," was all Spike said.

Wesley nodded thoughtfully.

* * *

"Buffy?" Dawn was smiling up at her. 

Buffy groaned. "Dawn, you have beg-face. What is it?" Dawn, a sweet smile plastered on her face, began to beg to go shopping with Harmony. After establishing that the vampire had invited her sister, Buffy reluctantly agreed. She wasn't in the mood to bicker with Dawn – every second she didn't see someone resembling Spike made her more and more disappointed.

_I guess he really isn't here. He just doesn't want to see me. Not that I wouldn't get that...I was such a bitch to him...But I want a chance to tell him I'm sorry. And yeah, it's selfish, but I want a chance to be forgiven..._

* * *

"Oh!" 

Spike looked at Wesley, in confusion. "Oh?" he repeated sarcastically.

_He deserves a favor, after what he risked for Buffy._ "Come out into the lobby...Tell the nurse that I said you can leave, if she offers you any trouble. I'll be...I'll be in touch with you later."

Wesley left the room and made his way to the lobby. He didn't completely understand his actions; after all, Spike had helped Buffy, but what did that have to do with Wesley? Why was the ex-watcher helping a vampire?

_You're daft,_ he told himself_. Of course he did something for you._

Wesley navigated his way through the throngs of Buffy's well-wishers to the Slayer herself, inventing a story. Wolfram and Hart wanted Miss Summers to wait in the lobby for them to return some possessions to her. Yes, that would do it, nice and vague.

Wesley would make sure Spike could meet Buffy. It was a favor to the vampire, because Wesley now looked at the world a little differently. He now had hope.

* * *

Spike wandered into Angel's lobby. The crowds had thinned, but there were still more people than Spike really liked to be around. It was funny; he had changed so much. The old, pre-chip, pre-soul Spike would have felt ecstatic about a heavily populated Bronze. 

First he smelled her. The scent wasn't strong and it was nearly drowned out by the smells of the many other people, but he caught it and he knew she was there. He scanned the faces for a single visage that was easily the most beautiful sight he'd ever laid eyes on.

He'd always found her gorgeous, even in the days when he wanted nothing more than to kill her. She'd always been perfect, whether she was a perfect foe or a perfect woman with perfect flaws.

The vampire approached her nervously. He knew where she was and he knew how she felt and he was still nervous.

Her eyes were sifting through the masses, searching for something. When she found it, her eyes locked on his, and she watched him approach. Never looking away, she continued her conversation with the people around her, waiting for him.

"Buffy."

He was right in front of her now. "Yeah?" she asked casually, with slight smile.

Nervous, he fidgeted like a high school boy in love. "So, she's back in the States." He looked her up and down. "Planning on staying a while?"

"My ticket's for Thursday. But...Not sure I'll use it." Spike and Buffy's hands somehow found each other, running their fingers across the skin.

"I see. What a good use of your money," he assessed, voice dripping with sarcasm. "What would your dear old Watcher say about that?" The hands settled on holding each other, warmly nestled just where they wanted to be.

Buffy laughed, her eyes twinkling and her mouth smiling. "Probably not much. He'd clean his glasses. But Anya would throw a..." She backtracked, having been torn from her mirth-filled world. "Or, you know, would if she were still..."

Spike squeezed her hand comfortingly. "She might be, luv."

"Yeah. Miracles happen," she grinned up at him.

"So anyway, I've got myself a nice place, wager you've seen it." His thumb massaged her wrist.

"Lame-ass bed."

"You...feel free to drop by...Any time between now and..._Thursday,_"he pronounced with sly understanding.

_Between now and forever. _She grinned, and Spike was overjoyed to notice an expression very much like one of his own smirks. "We'll see."

"Buffy...Remember that Cassie bird? Remember what she said to me?"

"No." Their hands shifted, coming palm to palm and the fingers enlacing, creating a shape the hands both remembered well.

"'Someday she'll tell you.'"

Buffy's lips spread into a full-out grin as she looked up at her vampire. For the first time since she'd clawed herself out of her grave, she felt whole again. She looked directly into Spike's eyes. "And she did."

**

* * *

THE END**

* * *

Except for the epilogue...  



	11. Epilogue

Disclaimer: see chapter 1**  
**

**

* * *

11: EPILOGUE**

* * *

She took his hand, rubbing the white skin with her thumb. "Tonight's been wonderful. Stop worrying." 

He smiled an unsure smile. "I don't...Okay, I do worry. But I'm always a bit afraid...that you'll change your mind." She was so beautiful, so perfect in every way...How did she end up with him?

"Then it would officially be the stupidest thing I've ever done. It would even top breaking up with you the first time."

He exhaled the ghost of a laugh. He wanted that on tape.

She really couldn't believe she'd broken up with him that time. It was definitely at the top of a long list of Buffy mess-ups. He'd been helping her feel alive – _which is a_ good _thing_, she reminded herself – and she'd just ended it all because it wasn't a fairy tale romance.

_But fairy tales never have vampires and Slayers, do they?_

Riley and Sam had what she thought was perfect. The way they treated each other...the way they felt about each other...the way you looked at them and knew they could live the rest of their lives together, just from the way they smiled...Spike had given her that, and more, and the only problem with what they'd had was she hadn't accepted it. Or returned it. Spike was the perfect boyfriend, and I was just another Drusilla. Giving him nothing of what he deserved.

_I could have had a perfect relationship, right then and there, if I'd just said "Fuck morality" and let myself love him._

Spike and Buffy looked up to let the waiter take their plates. She loved how he ate human food, even though he didn't need to. And she realized she always had.

"Want a drink, luv?"

"Sure."

The waiter waltzed off with the order. Buffy watched Spike's face as he stared off into space. She'd always thought he was hot, but she'd never realized how much of his intelligence and his enormous capability to love decorated his expression. When he looked at her, he made her a goddess. Buffy felt that she could love being a goddess for the rest of her life without ever tiring of it.

The cover band began playing a song. Buffy knew it was old, probably from one of those early rock bands that had been popular when her mom had been young.

_Two of us riding nowhere  
spending someone's hard earned pay  
You and me Sunday driving  
Not arriving on our way back home  
We're on our way back home  
We're on our way home  
We're going home  
_  
The lyrics intrigued her, and she once again had the sensation that she was the star of the movie of her life, and there was a soundtrack playing around her. She kept staring at her boyfriend, her vampire, as he watched couples hanging off each other and dancing to the music.

_He wants to dance,_ Buffy realized. _But he's never going to ask._

"C'mon, Spike." She pulled him by the hand she held, leading him onto the dance floor.

"Pet..." He'd never danced with her before. It was one of many things he'd never done with her. He'd never shared with her a gentle, loving kiss. He'd never sat on the grass, watching fire works and cradling her in his arms. He'd never been able to speak the words _my girlfriend._ He'd never woken up beside her in the morning.

_Two of us sending postcards  
writing letters on my wall  
You and me burning matches  
lifting latches on our way back home  
We're on our way back home  
We're on our way home  
We're going home  
_  
Buffy draped her arms around the back of his neck, and Spike's hands found a comfortable spot in the small of her back. He remembered so many times when he wanted to hold her like this, but instead he'd grabbed her roughly because she'd wanted it. He was now walking through a dream she'd never let him have.

_You and I have memories  
longer that that road  
that stretches out ahead_

_Two of us wearing raincoats  
standing solo in the sun  
You and me chasing paper  
getting nowhere on our way back home_

There were so many things he had done with her. He'd known her for so long, their history stretched out so far behind them, and yet he still had no idea what lay before them. He just felt that somewhere ahead was a comfortable place where they both belonged.

_We're on our way back home  
We're on our way home  
We're going home_

"Spike?" She spoke softly, but right into his ear. "There's something I really want to say to you. I realized that I'm really lucky. Lucky to have you, lucky to have a second chance, or whatever this I realized, you're perfect. We're perfect."

He grinned, and pulled back a little so he could look into her eyes. "Just like you wanted, huh, pet."

_You and I have memories  
longer that that road  
that stretches out ahead_

The waiter came up near them, and tapped Spike's shoulder to get his attention. "Sir? Miss? Your drinks are ready –"

"Just put them on the table," Buffy told him. She didn't really want them now.

She snuggled into Spike, as close as physically possible. She could feel the delightful contours of his body: his comfortable chest, his muscular stomach, his erection poking into her abdomen...He could feel her breasts mashed up against him, and the slight weight of her head resting on his shoulder.

_Two of us wearing raincoats  
standing solo in the sun  
You and me chasing paper  
getting nowhere on our way back home  
_  
Spike decided he would have to get some new furniture. A new bed was a definite necessity, but having a bureau and maybe a wardrobe would be nice too. He knew she had a lot of clothes to fill them up.

_It will be great, patrolling with him again,_ Buffy fantasized. _The way we tease each other while we're waiting for a fight, and then the way we work together, like we know what the other one's gonna do next..._

_We really have danced before,_ he admitted to himself. _All we've ever done, really.  
_  
_We're on our way back home  
We're on our way home  
We're going home  
We're going home_

* * *

**THE END, FOR REAL. (Except for the sequel. And honestly, there IS supposed to be a sequel to this. It will come in time...)**

* * *

Song credit: _Two of Us,_ by the Beatles 

Thanks to those who reviewed, both the first time and this time. And if anyone has any requests or suggestions or tips or ANYTHING regarding the sequel, please let me hear whatever you have to say, because the sequel is in this kind of disturbing state of unplanned unwrittenness, so I'm really open to reader input. My only plans for it involve some Wesley/Illyria thread, something with Dawn (possibly a romance) and maybe a Willow/Kennedy breakup (I never liked that brat...) and of course lots of Spuffy goodness. So...review, and give me tips, and enjoy reading other good fics while you wait for my sequel :)


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